Fresh Start
by keru.m
Summary: Harm and Mac. Post-Paraguay. Probably best to qualify this one as AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own'em.

A/N: So this story is not yet completed, and I am having a hard time sitting down and finishing it. I am hoping that by posting this, I will somehow be incentivized to complete the story. Or maybe shamed. Or, hey, even absolved. I guess it will depend on your response.

Begins at the tail end of Harm's stint with the CIA, after Paraguay. Takes off from there into the infinite possibilities of AU.

--

**Fresh Start**

Mac stood at his door. The last time she'd been here, she'd been wearing a pregnancy suit, telling him that she was leaving. And here she was, doing the same thing. Sans pregnancy suit.

She took a breath and knocked on his door. 50:50 odds he'd ignore her knock, as he had her calls.

To her surprise, the door swung open after only a few seconds, and Harm was smiling. That smile, however, was quick to fade when he realized who was actually in his hallway.

"Mac." He stood framed by the door, his displeasure at seeing her thinly veiled under curiosity. The smell of cooking and the sound of music filled his apartment.

"Am I interrupting?" She asked tentatively. She'd prepared herself to express regret about him losing his job at the CIA, but his attitude towards her made her feel unsure of herself.

"I'm having company for dinner." He replied, and maybe she imagined the smugness in his tone. "She should be here soon."

This, if nothing else these past few months, convinced Mac she was doing the right thing. "I'll only be a minute. There's something I need to tell you. In person."

"Look," He began impatiently, "If it's about the missed calls-"

"It's not." She stated, glad she'd spent the extra ten minutes sitting in the car in front of his building preparing herself for this encounter. The extent of his hostility, however, was a surprise. She'd really screwed up; hadn't expected her words in Paraguay to cut so deeply through all the good they'd built together over the years.

He studied her, distrustful. Mac bit back her own anger and hurt at his behaviour. Instead, she waited for him to decide if she was worth his time.

After six seconds of silence, he turned back into his apartment. He left the door open, but walked to his kitchen without a word or a backward glance. It was as much an invitation as she was going to get. No matter. She entered his apartment and shut the door behind her. She hadn't come here for any kind of gesture from him.

"I wanted you to hear this from me," She began, watching him as he moved about his kitchen preparing dinner. He didn't look up at her. She might as well not have been there. Mac took a breath. She would say this and she would leave. "I've been offered a position in San Diego." She paused, gauging his reaction. The knife he was using to chop carrots paused in midair. It was the only indication she had that he'd heard her. She'd come ready with an entire speech on how it was a good career move. How it was a position that would let her exercise more leadership ability, how it came with increased responsibilities and would likely put her on the fast track for a promotion. How it was good for her personally, and she would love to skip her annual February bout with the flu. How she needed a fresh start, needed to get away from Chegwidden and the dark cloak that now shrouded JAG. How the entire fallout from Paraguay followed her wherever she went, clawing through her self-confidence, leaving a trail of open sores, exposing her fears and her anger, her vulnerability. She wanted the courage to tell him that she had no reason to stay here any longer, nothing that was keeping her.

The sound of his knife slicing through the carrots, thudding against the chopping board, brought her back to reality. He was focused once again on making his dinner, head bent in concentration.

He didn't care about her reasons.

Everything she'd come ready to say turned to ash, useless in the face of that one truth. And he just kept chopping vegetables. It was stupid to come here, even though he deserved to know. Or maybe she just needed to tell him, see him one more time. That was it: this had all been for her. As far as he was concerned, she was no longer a part of his life.

"I'll go," She whispered, determined not to cry. This hurt more than she'd thought it would. She was at peace with her decision. It had taken a while, it would hurt for a long time to come, she knew, as it hurt now. But this was for the best. For him, for her. She wanted him to be happy, and clearly he wouldn't be with her around. She'd held out hope for so long, and perhaps that was the worst part, the most damaging of it all.

She had one hand on the doorknob when he finally spoke.

"When do you leave?" He asked.

Mac rested her forehead against the cool wood of his door. "Two weeks." Don't ask me to stay, she silently begged.

He said nothing, and she thought this was it. The last time she'd see him, a relationship faded to silence and tears, empty of all she'd felt for him over the years. She couldn't bear to say goodbye. A quiet exit, unacknowledged, unchallenged, seem distractingly apt.

Mac wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and rallied herself to walk out.

"Unbelievable," He muttered, derision dripping from his tone. Mac stilled, unsure she was meant to hear that.

"You're just going to walk away?" He said more loudly to her.

Mac turned to look at him. She didn't understand his reaction.

"Don't look at me like that, Mac." He waved his knife at her before slamming it down into his chopping board. "You're just going to walk away? After everything?"

"What?" This was what he'd wanted ... He hadn't returned her calls...

"Why do you always walk away?" His voice was increasing in volume, and she could see his anger take shape between them. "You always walk away! Every time we get close to something! And I'm not going to feel bad about this. I refuse to feel bad that there is nothing between us, there is no 'us'. I'm done feeling guilty." He glared at her. "If this is how you want to play it, fine."

She stared at him as he launched on his tirade, unable to find voice for the thousands of thoughts flying through her mind.

"I'm not going to beat myself up that it didn't work out! So you can leave. I won't stop you, you made sure of that," He accused, his jaw set in that stubborn line. "Just remember that."

Mac felt nothing but bone-tired at this never-ending mobius strip their relationship had devolved into. They both needed an escape. An exit strategy. It was telling that she'd even lost the will to fight him on this. She finally agreed with him on that point. "You didn't fight me." She pointed out. "I finally got the message."

"Fight you!" He sputtered. "You said it wouldn't work because we always fought," He threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, eyes blazing dangerously. "And you wanted me to fight you!"

This was spiralling out of control. "That's not what I mean," She said quickly, trying to pull back the reins on this conversation.

"Then what do you mean?" His anger took her back to the taxi stand in Paraguay, the suffocating heat and his unbearable abruptness. "You're going to have to spell it out for me."

"You told me once that when you save someone's life, it makes you responsible for them." She searched his face. "I don't want you to feel responsible for me. You ... you would be with me even if it made you miserable, out of a sense of obligation. You didn't fight me on it down in Paraguay, you didn't fight me on it when we came back. Five months and seventeen unreturned messages is proof enough, Harm, even if it hurts to admit it. I shouldn't have kept trying, but I guess I just wanted to believe that I was wrong. It took me this long to realize that I need to let you go. I'm making both of us miserable."

He stared at her. He looked ... shocked.

She swallowed the tears clogging her throat. "My regret is I dragged what we had through the mud." She looked down at her shoes, fingered the hem of her coat. "I shouldn't have done that. Our friendship deserved better. And I shouldn't have tried to force our relationship in a direction you didn't want." She couldn't look at him, not yet ready to face him with her shame over her behaviour, over how she'd tried to corner him.

"Mac, wait." He had moved across the room when she hadn't been looking. He was standing too near her, his voice was too soft, his eyes too warm. "What ... what are you saying?"

She didn't want to have to spell it out, it was embarrassing enough as it was.

A knock at his door saved her from further having to bear herself to him.

"That's your dinner date," She said, relieved. "I just wanted to say goodbye, and thank you. I owe you many things, Harm. All good."

"Wait," He shook his head, confused and disoriented. He reached an arm out towards her. "Wait."

She shook her head. "I can't wait anymore." She looked at him one last time, a long look she would hoard for all the times ahead. "Not anymore. You don't owe me anything."

She turned around, opened the door and without another thought, she walked past the woman who was standing in his hallway and out of his building. She forced herself to reach her car without turning around to get a final glimpse of him through his apartment window. She was not strong enough to see him yet with another woman. One day she might be okay with it, but not today.

It was only when Mac was in her car that she let herself take a breath and process what she'd just done, what had just happened. She waited for tears, expected them, in fact. But maybe it had cost her all her tears to come to this decision. And now that she'd carried it out, all she could feel was relief so potent, it made her hands shake. It was done, and now she could try to fix the mess she'd made of herself, of her life. That was something she could do. Small steps, attainable goals, a little at a time. A fresh start, new job, new city. This was something she could do.

--

_One year later..._

Mac stepped out of her cherry red convertible. One great thing about San Diego was the weather: she could drive her corvette year-round without worry. She hadn't felt cold down to her bones for a year, ever since she'd left DC. Warmth and sunshine were the best medicine. Of this, she was convinced. She wouldn't go so far as saying the last year had been a breeze. Quite the opposite. It had been long and hard. She'd grieved the end of an eight-year relationship, the loss of her best friend. Though, to be honest, she'd been grieving the loss of those for slightly longer than a year. But she'd only admitted it to herself a year ago. All in all, however, this city had been good to her. She'd worked hard at her job heading up Joint Legal Services South-West, she'd immersed herself in it and was now reaping the rewards of a job well done. Scuttlebutt had it that she'd be getting her full bird soon. She even found herself contemplating retirement. She had thought she was a dyed-in-the-wool Marine, but for the past few months she'd increasingly been inclined to see the world as her oyster. Perhaps she could branch out a bit. The details weren't too clear, but it felt good to be able to dream. She had nothing tying her down, felt freer than she had in years.

"Ma'am!"

Mac turned at hearing Bud's greeting. He was disembarking from his van. She grinned at him: another perk of San Diego, and one she perhaps appreciated more than others, was that she'd finally convinced Harriet to move the family down here. She'd had to work even harder at that than she had at establishing her own command. That thought made her grin widen. It had all been worth it.

"Hi, Bud. How're you?"

"Fine, Ma'am, thank you. And yourself?"

"Doing just great. AJ called me this morning to remind me about our planned trip to the beach this weekend."

"He's really excited," Bud said as they walked in step towards the building their offices were housed in. "He says he's going to build a sand castle that will be way cooler than yours."

"As long as he doesn't use my cell phone as the drawbridge this time." They shared a laugh.

"Before I forget: Harriet wants to know if you and Ethan would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night?"

Mac hesitated. If she were being honest, she was still unsure of her relationship with Ethan. She liked him, there was no denying. But she wasn't sure if she ready for anything. It had only been a year. It had already been a year ... For his part, Ethan was okay with taking things slow. He had a laid back approach to life, was at ease in his skin, and refreshingly honest. These were things she both envied and admired about him.

"Ethan would never turn down an offer to eat at Harriet's dinner table," Mac finally answered, "And neither would I."

"Great," Bud replied, holding the door for Mac. "Harriet will be so pleased."

Mac nodded, her thoughts distant. It was bound to be a long, sometimes achingly sad process ... She still thought of him, wondered what he was doing. With him out of the Navy, she had no way of knowing. It was better this way. And now, the thought of him finding another woman, finding happiness ... she was okay with it. In fact, she sometimes hoped for it. It would make her feel less guilty for trying to do the same.

--

_That night..._

The knock sounded at her door at 21:20, as anticipated. Mac, in a childlike fugue, slid across her hardwood floor in her socks. "Coming!" She called.

She opened the door, grinning at the man standing there. "Evening, Ethan. You're right on time." She knew he took it as a personal challenge to time himself by her internal clock whenever they met or made plans. It amused her no end.

"Evening," He gave her a wide, warm smile. She would admit that it made a little something glow in her chest when he looked at her that way. "How was your day?"

"No complaints," She moved aside to let him in. "Yours?"

"Mine's looking up," He entered her apartment, and gave her a greeting kiss on the cheek. "I have ice cream," He showed her the bag in his hand.

"And I have spoons," She replied, closing the door behind him. "What a happy coincidence."

"It's fate," He grinned at her over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen. "Why don't I get those spoons. You can put the TV on."

Mac sat down on the couch and flipped on the television. She and Ethan were both avid fans of the same show, and watched it together on a weekly basis. It was good to have someone she could do something so mundane with: watch TV over a shared pint of ice cream. She like how uncomplicated this felt. How ... simple.

Ethan joined Mac on the couch, and handed her a spoon. "Do you want to guess which flavour I got?"

She turned to face him. "Let's see," She tapped her finger against her chin, pretending to give it some thought. She studied his face. He was smiling very widely, which meant he'd bought her favourite flavour. "Phish Food." She declared.

"How did you know!" He exclaimed with genuine surprise. "You always guess right!"

"I told you," She replied, reaching behind his back to grab the container. "I'm psychic."

He settled back against the cushion, waving his spoon at her. "You peeked."

"I did not!" She defended.

"Shh," He interrupted, digging his spoon into the container, "The show's starting."

She laughed at his petulant behaviour. "Sore loser," She teased. He purposefully ignored her, which just made her smile. As the credits rolled, Mac watched the man beside her. There was something about him she found very appealing, almost calming. He was handsome, tall, had sun-kissed chestnut hair - from all the time he spent outdoors and in the ocean, she'd guess - and light eyes. Physically, he was quite unlike the men she'd previously dated. She normally went for guys her height, dark-eyed and dark-haired. But Ethan had kind eyes that crinkled in the corners when he smiled, and warm, calloused hands that lent him an air of solidity she was finding it increasingly difficult to resist. Perhaps it really was time to move on, to test the waters. Ethan was a good man, he had a good heart. Mac sighed, turning her attention to the TV show. She didn't know what she wanted, what she wanted to do...

"Hey," Ethan nudged her with his shoulder. "You're drifting."

Mac smiled up at him. He was also very sweet. Giving in to the spontaneous imp that sometimes wanted to come out to play, Mac reached up to place a kiss on his jaw. Happy with how that had felt, and enjoying the stupidly happy look on Ethan's face, Mac turned her attention back to the television show and the ice cream.

Four minutes and eight seconds later, Ethan slipped his arm around her shoulder. She let him, because she liked how this felt too. She was going to stop thinking seventy steps in the future, and enjoy all these little moments she'd lived without for such a long time.

--  
_That weekend..._

Mac entered the medium-sized gallery in search of Ethan. He was working, delivering and putting the final touches on the furniture he'd designed for his client, who was the owner of the gallery. She was, Mac knew, one of Ethan's favourite and most loyal customers. For her part, Mac had an appointment at a spa just down the street, and she'd stopped by and see if he was willing to let her steal him away to share a cup of coffee at the cafe a few doors down. It was such a lovely day, perfect to sit on a terrace with a steaming latte and good company.

She spied Ethan, lying on his back under the wooden side table he was setting up. He was pretty well-known in certain circles for his skills in woodwork. He'd even built Mac a desk for her apartment as a birthday gift; it was simply gorgeous and almost made her look forward to bringing paperwork home. As Mac made her way to Ethan, she spared a leisurely glance for her surroundings. She decided she liked the gallery, and not for the first time wondered how it must feel to be able to afford dropping a few hundred if not thousand on a piece of artwork. This was a luxury that was far beyond her means. She smiled, though, at the thought of the desk Ethan had built for her. Maybe not so far out her reach, then. And, she knew, the kind of friend she was finding in Ethan was a luxury in itself.

"Working hard, Handyman?" She nudged his foot with her toe.

Ethan looked up at her, and grinned in greeting. "You hassling me, MacKenzie?"

"Actually," She said, arching her eyebrow, "I came to offer to whisk you away for a quick coffee break. But you would clearly rather pass on my company."

He grabbed her ankle, laughing. "Oh no, you don't. I'm going to take you up on that offer." He held on to her ankle, those deliciously calloused fingers of his warm against her skin, to pull himself off the ground. She smiled at him as he wiped his hands on a cloth.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked.

"There's a coffee shop a few doors down..."

Mac trailed off as an older woman approached them, her nose buried in a large volume. "Ethan," She began, not looking up, "Why don't you take a break for a bit? You've been working hard..." She looked up and caught sight of Mac. She smiled, and Mac thought there was something familiar about the woman.

"I was about to do just that, Mrs. Burnett, thank you." Ethan replied, then indicated Mac. "This is a good friend of mine, Ma'am. Sarah MacKenzie."

Mac smiled and put out her hand in greeting. Instead of shaking it, the older woman stared at Mac with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. Mac's hand remained extended, though she could not interpret the reaction she was getting. Ethan didn't seem to notice the hesitation his client was exhibiting.

"Sarah," He put a hand on Mac's back. "This is the famous Trish Burnett I've been telling you about."

It was Mac's turn to drop her jaw. He'd never mentioned her name before. "Ma'am?" Mac's hand wavered, but before she dropped it, Trish grasped it.

"Oh, Sarah MacKenzie!" She shook Mac's hand with great warmth, and then seemed to change her mind and pulled Mac in for a hug. "After all these years, imagine meeting like this!"

She pulled back, keeping Mac's hands in her own. She was smiling widely. "How are you?"

Mac didn't quite know how to react to this greeting. She'd never met Harm's mom, and based on the terms she and Harm had parted on, Mac had expected ... different.

"You two know each other?" Ethan looked from one woman to the other in confusion, before settling on Mac to wait for an answer.

"Mrs Burnett is..." Mac realized that she had not said Harm's name out loud in almost a year. It was a terrible realization, that drove many points home, none of which Mac wanted to consider. "When I was stationed in DC," She explained to Ethan, "I was partnered with Mrs Burnett's son for many years."

"They were thick as thieves," Trish added with a wink directed at Ethan. "She saved his life more times than I care to contemplate."

Mac found a smile with some difficulty. Her sincerity, however, was easy to come by. "That road runs both ways, Ma'am."

"Call me Trish," Trish admonished. "Harm should-"

She was interrupted by another voice coming from the entrance. "Mom, sorry I'm late-"

Mac spun on her heel, sure her ears were deceiving her. She hadn't heard that voice in so long ... He was standing in the doorway. His eyes fixed on hers, his sentence left dangling, a look of shock on his face. In the space of a breath, shock transformed into longing, which gave way to regret. He took a quick step towards her, but then stopped himself.

She felt herself being sucked back in, a powerful whirlpool that frothed, the roar of rushing water in her ears, filling her lungs. She couldn't breathe.

"Harm!" Trish's voice wrenched Mac back to realization. She looked away from his entrancing stare, and she felt embarrassed by her reaction to his sudden presence. She looked at her feet, remembering that Ethan was standing next to her. She didn't look at him, not able to bear seeing what his reaction to all this had been.

"What are the odds of meeting Sarah like this?" Trish asked her son.

Harm didn't say anything, and Mac's curiosity got the best of her. She glanced at him, her head still bent, and their eyes met. It was enough to knock him from his stupor. He blinked, and then looked blankly at his mom.

"Sorry, what?" He cleared his throat, and didn't know what to do with his hands. He crossed them over his chest, then clasped them in front of him before stuffing them in his pockets.

Trish was looking at Harm, wearing an odd expression. Mac was pretty sure Ethan was directing the same look at her. This was getting awkward. But Mac couldn't bring herself to talk to Harm. What would she say?

So the four of them stood there: two trying not to stare at each other, the other two looking confused.

Trish was the first to break the heavy silence. "Harm was meeting me for a late lunch. Why don't you two join us?" She asked Mac and Ethan.

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Ethan began slowly, but Trish cut him off.

"Nonsense. A good friend of Sarah's is a good friend of ours."

"That's very kind of you, Trish," Mac looked at Harm's mom, relieved to have found her voice. "But I have an appointment in an hour that I cannot miss. I just came by to take Ethan out for a coffee."

"Oh," Trish said, seeming quiet disappointed, "How unfortunate."

Mac looked at Harm from the corner of her eye, and was surprised to see that he was equally disappointed by her refusal. How could he possibly want to spend an awkward lunch with her, after they'd neither seen nor spoken to each other for a year?

"Maybe next time," She told Trish, then forced herself to look at Harm. She felt awkward speaking to him. "The next time you're in town-"

"Darling," Trish looked at Mac in confusion. "Harm lives about 30 minutes from here. He's usually in town."

"Oh." And there was awkwardness again, laying siege to their quartet.

This time, Harm took the initiative. He entered the gallery fully - he had been standing in the doorway this entire time - and walked towards them. Mac's heart seized. She wouldn't know what to do if he touched her, hugged her. She wanted it so badly, and yet was horrified at the thought of what her reaction to such proximity with him might be.

But he simply put his hand out to Ethan. "Harm Rabb," He introduced himself. He looked both reluctant and determined. "Mac and I used to work together."

Ethan shook Harm's hand. "Ethan Wilder. Pleased to meet you."

Mac could tell that Ethan was more bewildered than pleased.

"Mac and I were stationed together in DC," Harm offered by way of explanation, probably sensing the other man's confusion.

Ethan, to Mac's surprise, grinned giving her a sidelong look. "Mac. Cute nickname," He teased.

Mac couldn't help but laugh, of all the things for him to comment on, he picked the most harmless one. The tension seeped out of her, and she silently thanked Ethan for his tact in diffusing the situation. At least for her.

"That's exactly why I adopted it, Ethan," She bantered back, giving Trish a mock-exasperated look. "Because the military is all about cute."

Trish laughed lightly, though her eyes were still clouded by curiosity over the stilted reunion she'd witnessed. "Ethan, could I steal you away for a few moments before you take that coffee break? I'd like to go over a few details about the dining table you'll be building for the house."

"Of course, Mrs. Burnett." He turned to Mac, "Would you mind waiting for a few minutes?"

She did not know if she wanted to be left alone with Harm. "Of course not," She lied. "Take your time."

"Thanks, Sarah." He squeezed her shoulder before following Trish towards the back of the gallery. She felt incredibly self-conscious to be touched by Ethan while Harm watched, and also thought herself stupid to feel such a thing. It had been a whole year ... She watched Ethan disappear through the door to Trish's office, buying herself time before she had to face Harm.

Mac took a deep breath, then finally looked at him.

He was watching her with sadness and longing and affection.

"How are you, Mac?" His voice was low, his eyes soft, his smile slight. He seemed resigned, and somehow older. Perhaps even calmer. She wondered what the catalyst for the change in him was. In some ways, he looked how she felt. But she'd done the right thing a year ago.

She shrugged. "You?"

He also shrugged. They stood silently. He kept watching her as though doing so was parching a deep thirst, and she tried not to get caught up in his gaze.

"You live here now?"

He nodded. "I was at loose ends after..." He hesitated. "...after the CIA let me go. Thought it might be time for a fresh start."

"Near your parents?"

He nodded, his eyes roamed her face. It felt like a caress. "I run a flying school. You wouldn't believe how much people are willing to pay to learn."

"Do you enjoy it?" Mac had a hard time picturing Harm in any profession that didn't involve thrills and high stress situations. He thrived in those settings.

He shrugged. "I get by."

Her heart tightened. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be happy. He was not supposed to be like ... this.

"Harm..." She trailed off, not knowing what she wanted to say to him. She wanted to tell him off, tell him that she'd done the right thing by absolving him and he was the one who hadn't kept up his end of the deal.

His eyes finally left her face, to drift over her shoulder in the direction his mother and Ethan had gone.

"You're happy?"

She didn't know. Happiness seemed such a big thing, and there were days she felt so small. She didn't say anything.

He reached a hand out towards her, his fingers slightly rough against her skin as they traced her cheek. Her eyes fell shut, her breathing deepened. Her heart thumped in her chest. His touch was bringing everything back, all the things she'd tried to forget, all the things she told herself she didn't want to remember. She opened her eyes to find him again watching her, entranced.

"Do you ever wish for clean slate?" He whispered.

She tried to fight her tears.

"I do," He answered his own question, his voice quiet, soft. "I've given it a lot of thought..." He gave her a sad smile and cupped her face with his hand. "You know what I'd do?"

She shook her head slowly, from side to side, resisting the urge to nuzzle into his warm palm.

"I'd start over with you, Sarah. I wouldn't let myself lose sight of you." His thumb stroked her skin. "I'd make you see that you were never an obligation. You've always been a gift."

Mac sniffed, and couldn't stop the tears from escaping. "Harm-"

The door to Trish's back office shut with a firm thwap, and Trish's voice soon followed.

"That would be simply wonderful, Ethan!"

Mac hastily stepped away from Harm and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Harm's hand dropped to his side, but his eyes never left hers.

"It'll be a great project to work on, Mrs. Burnett," Ethan's voice drifted across the large room as Mac quickly composed herself.

She turned around to face Ethan and Trish with a plastered smile on her face. Her mind and her heart still lingering on Harm. What just happened here? She thought-

"Ready to go?" Ethan asked as he came to her side. He didn't touch her, though, and for that Mac was relieved. Harm's caress was still too fresh on her mind.

"Yes," She nodded, snapping herself out of her thoughts. Mac turned to Trish. "It was wonderful to meet you. I'm sorry I can't make lunch."

"Next time, dear. I'll get your number from Ethan, if that's okay." She smiled warmly at Mac, and then as an afterthought added, "Or I can get it from Harm, even. Regardless, you must let us have you over for dinner."

Mac nodded and smiled, her confusion now steadily increasing. She thought she'd done the right thing a year ago. She was convinced she had. She was sure Harm had increasingly seen her as a burden after the way he'd behaved in Paraguay. He'd resented her for the risks he'd had to take in getting to her, for what it had ultimately cost him. He hadn't spoken to her for almost half a year, hadn't returned her calls ... But now...She was so confused...

"Thank you, Ma'am." She heard herself say. "That would be lovely."

"It'll be good to catch up, Mac." Harm added, his voice tentative, as though he was testing the waters.

Mac looked at him, and found nothing but sincerity.

"Nice to meet you, Ethan." Harm turned to Ethan, consummately polite.

"Likewise, Harm." Ethan was slightly more reticent, and Mac guessed he was piecing together his own idea of what must have transpired between her and Harm. Mac suddenly saw the simple, uncomplicated life she'd been trying to build for herself explode into ruins.

Why did he come back? She was working on it, she had been making progress. She had started to look forward to seeing what was between her and Ethan. He made her feel little pieces of happiness, tiny moments of joy, eclats of ease. And then Harm had come back into her life and everything was all messed up again. What would she do? What did she want?

What could she have?

It hit her then that she felt for Harm now exactly as she'd felt for him a year ago, exactly as she'd felt when they were the best of friends and she went to him with the minutia of her life and he came to her whenever he needed a sounding board. Love, she thought, can drive a woman crazy.

She wished she'd never set foot in this gallery.

-


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Wow. I think, based on the sheer quantity of your reviews, that I will be compelled to finish this. I have about 9 parts (closing in on 10) written, but am currently stuck - I don't know what it is, but I just stare at the screen and cannot write. Fingers crossed I get unstuck. Thanks for the feedback!

--

**Fresh Start 2**

"So." Ethan stated. It was one word, but it carried a wealth of meaning.

Mac sighed over her cappuccino. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, she was sitting on a terrace with a person whose company she truly enjoyed, with a really good cup of coffee in front of her. And she felt terrible. Guilty and anxious and confused.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked.

"Not particularly," Mac replied halfheartedly. She toyed with her spoon, tracing patterns in the foam on her drink.

"Which means you probably should," He pointed out with an encouraging smile.

Mac really didn't want to talk about this. She wanted to mope. But then, she supposed that if she'd wanted to mope she wouldn't be here, sitting across from Ethan. She'd be at home. Moping.

Mac sighed again. She supposed she should be candid with Ethan. She could feel the thin threads that had held her together this past year slowly unraveling. Where to start?

"We worked together for seven years." Good start. She continued, "We got really close, became really good friends. We share a godson..."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "He's AJ's godfather?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Things went ... sour." She shrugged, conscientiously stirring her drink. Fervently clamping down on her bubbling anxiety. She hadn't really spoken about this with anyone. It felt strange to do so. "We parted on pretty bad terms."

"How long did you date?"

She looked at Ethan in surprise. "What? No." She stumbled on her words. "I mean, we didn't."

"You didn't?" It was his turn to look surprised.

She shook her head.

"But, I mean, from the way you two behaved in there, I thought he was the guy you were trying to get over."

Mac stared at Ethan, her temper rising even though she knew it was silly to get angry; she had no reason to. It was after all, the truth.

"We might not have dated," She defended, "But he was still an important part of my life for seven years."

He searched her face for a moment. "He was that important to you?"

Mac nodded, studying him carefully. He didn't seem to be passing judgment, which was one of the things Mac really liked about Ethan. Probably the thing that had drawn her to him in the first place, that had led to their slow-blooming friendship. It had been such a refreshing thing to find in a person.

"Sarah?" Ethan gently nudged her from her thoughts.

"He really was." She answered his question more fully. Processing the thought even as she spoke it out loud. "He helped me through some hard times. We helped fight each other's demons. It was like..." She hesitated. "It was like losing family. It hurt." Ethan knew enough about her to know she would not use such words lightly.

He nodded, recognition warming his eyes. He reached forward and brushed her bangs off her forehead. It was a gesture she found comforting. "Why did you part on bad terms then? What happened?"

"It's a long story." She was being evasive, she knew. But dammit, she just wanted to crawl under her sheets and forget that she'd lost all the progress she'd made this last year.

"Sarah..." He took her hand in his.

Mac needed to get away from him. She needed space. He was being too patient and she was upset and angry and confused.

"I have to go." She tried to pull away, knowing even as she did that she was falling back into bad habits.

"Your appointment isn't for another half hour." He held on firmly to her hand. "Don't leave because this is hard to talk about."

"I don't want to talk about it." She said firmly, looking him in the eye and daring him to challenge her on this.

"I know. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't," He raised an eyebrow to underscore his point.

Mac huffed. He was definitely one of the most honest people she'd ever met. Right now, she was finding it annoying. Ethan, however, was grinning.

"You only make that sound when you know I'm right." He seemed very pleased with himself.

Mac had to smile.

"I'm also right in saying that you need to fix your friendship with Harm," He continued. "Because not doing so is making you miserable."

Mac's head snapped up. Wasn't that what she'd told Harm? i_I'm making both of us miserable._/i

And yet he hadn't looked much better at the gallery. He'd looked just as she'd felt. Mac sighed. She really had thought she'd been right in walking away from him, in leaving him to pursue a life unencumbered by the increasingly heavy expectations their relationship was piling onto his shoulders.

Now, after what he'd told her at the gallery, the way he'd looked at her, touched her ... she wasn't so sure anymore.

She searched Ethan's face, settling on his eyes. Her feelings for him were now confusing her too. He was sweet, and kind and she felt a pull towards him ... And yet it seemed Harm was the immovable force that eclipsed all others.

God, this was such a mess. She didn't know what to do about it.

Full disclosure, perhaps? She did feel safe with Ethan. Importantly, she had been telling herself that she was going to try and avoid all the mistakes she'd made with Harm and with the other men in her life. She wasn't going to repeat those with Ethan. The poor communication and the misunderstandings, holding back and not trusting herself to trust. It was the lesson she'd learned from the crucible of her last months with Harm, one she'd mulled over in the year since.

"Ethan," Mac took a deep breath and spoke through her discomfort. "The thing with Harm is that we, well, we never got involved because we kept ... missing."

He looked at her blankly. "Missing?" He shook his head. "I don't understand. Missing what?"

Mac cleared her throat. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I didn't grow up in a stable family, or have the most consistent role models. I didn't know much about all that, but when I transferred to JAG, I found something there. Good, solid friendships that filled a space in my life I didn't even know was there."

"Like Bud and Harriet," Ethan offered.

Mac nodded. "Yes, and Harm and even on a different level with my former CO, Admiral Chegwidden."

"You've never mentioned any admiral before."

"There was a falling out there, too, in my last year in DC."

"Sounds like a terrible year."

"It was," She agreed, slipping into silence as she roamed the wreckage of that last year. She didn't know where the admiral was. He'd retired. She'd sent him a card containing a bare bones message and her signature when she'd heard. It was all she could bear to do. She brought herself back to point. "But, the thing is, given what I was used to before JAG, I mistook the friendship Harm was giving me for something else. I mean," She swallowed heavily and avoided looking at Ethan, "We'd formed an incredibly deep connection, and I just didn't know what to make of it. It developed into an attraction on my part. So I mistook friendship for more than it was. I thought maybe he felt the same way, but there was always something going on in his life that ... complicated things. I finally realized that I was putting pressure on Harm to meet my expectations, which wasn't fair to him. And it wasn't sustainable either. It ruined everything." She took a deep breath. Okay. She'd been honest. She took another breath, and decided that being honest felt absolutely terrible. It was revealing and it just plain hurt. She chanced a look at Ethan.

"So, you had feelings for him?" He asked, his expression thoughtful as he looked at her.

She nodded.

"You still do?" He asked. He didn't seem particularly keen on getting an answer.

She could feel the two poles pulling her apart. She was getting over him; she would never get over him. How much was due to time? If they'd met again in five years instead of one, would she have felt a nostalgic fondness instead of regret and loss and longing?

"How do you forget seven years?" She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. I don't want to feel this way. I thought I was over him, I thought you and I..." She trailed off and looked at her hands.

He didn't say anything for a few long moments, instead he stared out towards the tree-lined streets.

"Do you still think your feelings were one-sided?"

"I don't know anymore. I thought I did, a year ago, when I left. But now..."

He nodded slowly, still looking towards the street.

Mac could feel him slipping away, and maybe that most of all about today's events, made her want to cry. But she wasn't about to do that.

"I have to get to my appointment," She said, standing up. She was reluctant to go, but he didn't try to stop her so she collected her purse. She wanted to ask if she'd see him again, if he'd call her, if she could call him. She sensed, however, that he just wanted to be by himself for a while.

"Ethan," She began, not wanting to end her day with him on this note.

"It's alright, Sarah. Just give me some time." He gave her a half-hearted smile. "I just need to think about this."

She nodded quickly, blinking back the stubborn moisture in her eyes. "Okay," Her voice trembled. "I'll see you."

Mac left the cafe, thankful she'd indulged herself with a long spa appointment today. It beat going back to her empty apartment armed only with disappointment.

--

_That night..._

Mac sat on her couch. The TV was on, but she wasn't really paying attention to that. Her thoughts were consumed in equal measure by Ethan and Harm. She didn't know if she wanted to see Harm again, but she did want to see Ethan again. She didn't know if she'd ever see either. At the very least, she would be avoiding one particular corner of La Jolla for a long time.

A knock sounded at her door, startling Mac. She made her way to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was Ethan.

Mac didn't know whether to be relieved or apprehensive. She steeled herself and opened the door.

"Ethan," She greeted, moving aside to let him in.

He entered her apartment.

"Sarah, I..." He hesitated, searching for words, "I shouldn't have been so aloof over coffee, when you told me what you did. I did push you to talk, and just because I didn't like what you said, well that doesn't give me the right to be an ass about it."

"No," She spoke quickly, relieved yet not wanting him to take the blame, "I mean, I understand, Ethan. I hadn't been forthcoming before, so this pretty much came out of left field for you."

"Stop making excuses for me," He warned, smiling despite himself.

Mac smiled, too. "Okay. I'll stop."

He took her hand in his and pulled her closer towards him. She went along.

"I am sorry," He said, when she was right in front of him. "I just," He shook his head in frustration. "It's just, I really like you, Sarah. A lot. But I don't know what to do. What do you want me to do? From what you've said about Harm, I don't think I can compete."

He looked really upset, and Mac didn't know what to do either. What did she want? Instead of saying anything, she put her arms out for a hug. He gladly wrapped her in an embrace, and she could feel his relief in his touch.

"I really like you too, Ethan." She whispered into his shoulder.

"But?" He tensed fractionally.

"Seeing ... him through me for a loop."

He was quiet for three hearbeats. "Where does that put us?"

"I don't know."

He let her go, and she felt his absence keenly. "Sarah, I care too much for you to ... I can't..." He sighed, his hand reaching behind him for the front door knob. "When you figure it out..."

"Ethan, no." She grabbed his sleeve. She heard the plea in her voice, and immediately hated herself for it. "Wait."

He stopped. "What do you want me to do, Sarah?" His hurt cut through her own recriminations.

She could understand his stance on this, but she didn't want him to disappear on her, to fade away from her life. "We're supposed to be friends..."

"We are," He assured her. "I am your friend. But the way I feel about you, I can't watch you get involved with someone else, I can't pretend that's okay with me."

"Ethan-"

"Sarah, I'm pretty sure I'm five-sixths of the way to being in love with you." His fingers brushed her bangs away from her forehead. "I can't just turn it off."

Her eyes brimmed.

"Hey," He said softly, "Don't cry." The tenderness in his voice made her tears overflow. She just wanted a good and simple life, that was all. Was that too much to ask for? Who knew if she'd ever see Harm again. She sure as hell didn't know if she even wanted to. She couldn't help how she felt for him, she thought she'd trained herself away from those feelings ... And now because of that, she was going to lose Ethan.

"I don't even know if I'll ever see Harm again," She said. "I don't know-"

"You'll figure it out. If you realize you're over him..." He looked at her, wearing a slight smile. "I'm sure I can find that remaining sixth somewhere in here," He tapped his chest, above his heart. He turned the doorknob to leave, but then changed his mind.

He turned around, stepped up to her, and cupped her face with his hands.

"Just once," He whispered, looking from her eyes to her mouth. "I've wanted to know what this feels like for the longest time."

He leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft against hers, and felt so good. He deepened the kiss, and Mac fell into the emotions he was conjuring. She could feel his love, his longing, his loss.

"Sarah," He whispered her name as the kiss ended. She recovered enough to open her eyes and regain an awareness of her surroundings in time to see the front door shut behind Ethan's retreating form. On numb legs, Mac backed her way to her couch. She sat down, drawing her feet up and hugging her knees, and then she let her tears of confusion and frustration flow.

_The next morning, in another part of town..._

Harm, his mother and Frank sat down to eat for their weekly brunch. It was a tradition that had formed since Harm had moved back to the West coast eight months ago: every Sunday they'd share breakfast and often make an afternoon of it by going to the movies or playing a game of golf. Harm knew his mother absolutely loved their weekly get-togethers, and he'd come to enjoy them himself. His initial reluctance towards this shared time had less to do with the company, and more to do with the fact that he'd been ... down ever since that night a year ago. The night Mac had come to his place and told him she was leaving him because she thought he didn't care about her, saw her as an obligation, a debt to be paid.

It still disgusted him. He hated that she could think such a thing. That her conviction in this was so strong, it propelled her to move to the other side of the continent. The same end of the continent he'd eventually moved to because it was the sensible thing to do, given it was where his mother lived, and where he could start fresh far from the memories in DC, where he could run his flying school. It just made good sense. Weather, after all, was important for a flying school. So he'd moved eight months ago. Eight months in which he half prayed, half dreaded he would run into her. Where he looked for her on the sidewalks and the stores, hoping. Where he would guess at where she was, what she was doing.

After seeing her, however just one look, he wondered if he should have just walked into her office and talked to her. He could have cleared up her misunderstanding of his position much earlier, because when she looked at him in his mother's gallery, he'd seen the same hurt in her eyes that had been there that night in his apartment. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking, though. He kept playing the possible scenarios in his mind and in none of them could he picture himself actually going to see her, telling her ... the truth. He wasn't so far gone that he'd approach her on his knees, begging for understanding, for absolution. If she wanted to end things, then that was her choice and he couldn't do anything about it. He refused to.

But the look on her face, that hurt and those tears, her expression when he'd touched her ... he realized he was making excuses, hiding behind his pride. The truth of it was - and this was a difficult admission to make - he was afraid. He'd lost enough people in his life that he treasured those who were important to him. And yet he'd managed to lose one of the best friendships he had. He was afraid it had been lost forever, that he would see her again and her eyes would be empty of all their years together, the history they'd built, the significance they'd shared. He didn't think he could bear to see that, couldn't bear it if she'd moved on. So it was safer to immerse himself in starting up his company, in rebuilding his relationship with his parents, in settling into a new life.

But he only had to think of how she'd looked yesterday, all of that - his pragmatism, his plans, his whatever - was swept away in the currents that still flowed between them. It had filled his heart to see her, made him feel such an uncomplicated happiness, a simple joy, that he couldn't even make sense of it.

He was hooked. He needed to see her again, he needed to know what was going on between her and the Ethan fellow who apparently had built most of the furniture in his parents' house. The very chair he was sitting in, in fact. He knew, he could see that this would set him back a year on the movement he'd made in his life away from her. It would maybe even set him back into that terrible cycle of hurt, drag him back to the resentful, sullen space he'd made his home in their last months together, their last months apart, before she'd left him. Except all the times before, when she'd been involved with another man, he'd sat on the sidelines and jeered, or simply remained quiet. He couldn't do that this time, not after a year of missing her, of aching for her. He needed to know if he had a chance. Even a remote chance, a slight one. He needed to know this as much as he needed his next breath, and he knew he wouldn't be able to find peace of mind until this was resolved one way or another. He wouldn't find peace until he could make her see that he'd always valued her even if he hadn't been the greatest at showing it, or until he knew that it really was the end, that he'd really lost her. He needed to know because for all the movement he'd made this past year, it had been a terrible year, a precarious one.

More than anything, though, if he'd been the kind of person who wished on stars, he'd wish for the chance to love her. It had taken him the better part of the last year to reach this realization. Seeing her had simply forced it home. He wanted a chance with her. Just one. He would make her see everything he hadn't been able to make her see before.

Harm wondered if there serendipitous meeting was a sign, if he should see a hidden meaning behind it ... Fate. Harm forced his attention back to the conversation his mom and Frank were having at the breakfast table when he heard his mom mention Ethan's name.

"Frank," Trish was saying, "Could you arrange to send Ethan his first payment by courier tomorrow?"

"Of course-"

"I can deliver his cheque to him," Harm quickly interrupted, jumping at the chance.

Trish and Frank both looked at him in surprise.

"Don't trouble yourself, Harm, it's just a matter of dispatching a courier," Frank replied.

"It's not a problem, Frank. I can head over to his studio tomorrow afternoon. Besides, I'd like to see his workshop."

They didn't seem to think he was making much sense.

"I don't have anyone scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, and you guys know I'm renovating my place." Harm shrugged. "He might have decent advice on what I should do with the den. My last place didn't have a den..." He was rambling, which was a sure giveaway that he was dropping chaff, so Harm decided it might be better to shut up.

"Alright," Trish said slowly, exchanging a meaningful look with Frank. Harm refrained from rolling his eyes. Sometimes they still acted like he was a kid who couldn't read the by-plays in a conversation. He supposed his mother had told Frank about his reunion with Mac. God knows she'd tried hard to grill him during their lunch yesterday, but he wasn't about to open that wound with her. Her palliative would have come in the form of intrusive advice.

"Thanks, Harm." She said, looking mildly worried. "I'll have the cheque ready for you tomorrow morning." She hesitated, and then decided to go for broke, apparently, because her next words almost made Harm blush. "Just, well, be civil."

God knows what his mother thought of him.

"He really does make the best wood furniture on the West Coast," She continued with concern.

Harm shook his head, feeling just a tad bit resentful. Furniture. It's not like the chair he was sitting on was all that great. Whatever, he huffed internally. And he was definitely going to be civil with Ethan. He'd learned the hard way that Mac didn't quite appreciate it when he was a jerk about the men in her life. He had a new playbook, and he planned on following it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for your feedback. They got me writing some more, making the story slightly less unfinished...

--

**Fresh Start 3**

_The next day..._

Harm stood in front of the large brick building that housed Ethan's furniture store and workship. Wilder Woodworks, the sign said. Harm couldn't help but note that Mac had a thing for guys who named their businesses after themselves. Brumby and Brumby. And then Lowne's law firm. And Harm had named his own company Rabb Aviation. Well, Harm mused, as long as Webb didn't rename the CIA, he was willing to accept this as some sort of coincidence. Taking a fortifying breath, Harm pushed open the door. The motion caused a small bell that was attached above the door to chime.

"I'll be right there," Came a call, right before Ethan emerged from the door at the back of the showroom. He was busy wiping his hands on a cloth as he entered the room, so Harm seized the chance to take a good look at him. He was tall but - and here Harm took no small degree of satisfaction - Ethan was at least an inch shorter than him. However, not that he'd ever admit this, Ethan wasn't that bad looking. It was clear he worked at a more manual profession, if the size of biceps was anything to go by. Harm may have had an inch on him in height, but he thought Ethan won in the bicep category. The guy also had broad shoulders. Harm wondered if Ethan had a six pack, like he did. He hoped not. He made a mental note to up his own weightlifting regimen.

Ethan stopped when he realized who was in his showroom. He turned wary.

"I'm just dropping this off," Harm said, handing Ethan the envelope with the cheque. Ethan took the envelope and looked at it for a moment, before recognizing what was in his hand.

"Mrs Burnett's cheque."

Harm nodded.

Ethan still looked suspicious. "She normally couriers it. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. Mom asked me to thank you as well. The new pieces look great in the gallery."

Ethan gave Harm a tentative smile. "I should thank her. She keeps recommending me to her friends. It's been a real boon to business."

Harm nodded, wondering how to take this conversation where it needed to go. He cleared his throat. "So, how's Mac?"

Immediately, Ethan's face shuttered. His expression turned chilly, with the exception of undercurrents of anger in the man's eyes.

The change surprised Harm. He put his hands up defensively. "I was just asking, I didn't mean to..." Harm trailed off, not sure what he was supposed to say given that he had no idea why Ethan was being so cold all of a sudden.

Did he see him as a threat? The idea sent bright bolts of hope through him. He had to actively work to keep from grinning at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he did have a chance with Mac.

"I thought you and Mac," Harm sent a silent prayer heavenwards before jumping in, "Saw a lot of each other, that's-"

"Why are you really here?" Ethan asked, cutting Harm off.

Harm hesitated, mulling over his answer. Why was he here? He'd told himself it was to find out if Mac and Ethan were involved, but he knew the moment he set foot through those doors that it didn't matter if they were. Besides, he was getting a pretty good sense that they weren't. Ethan didn't display the confidence of a person in a committed relationship.

So why was he here? Maybe he could get Ethan to back off. After all, he'd known Mac longer. They had serious history.

"Look," Harm began. "You probably don't know the whole story of what happened between Mac and me." Harm paused, unsure if he could fully divulge the truth to Ethan, or even if he should. He just wanted to get a feel of the guy...

"Sarah spoke to me about it."

Harm paused in his thoughts and focused fully on Ethan. "Right," He nodded, acknowledging what Ethan thought he knew, "But she hasn't told you the whole story. Our relationship was-"

"You were the best of friends," Ethan interrupted, "Fought off each other's demons, became really close. She wanted more, you didn't. Somehow," Here, Ethan's voice took on a distinctly antagonistic tone, "You made her feel like a burden in your life. This on top of a terrible year where she had a falling out with an admiral she was close with as well. So she picked up and started fresh, here in California." Ethan paused, his expression going from confrontational to patently disgusted. "What I'd like to know is what kind of a person you are, to hurt her like that?" Ethan's eyes sparked with an angry resentment, his tone sharp. "No one deserves that kind of treatment from a friend. Let alone family, which is what you were to her."

Harm stared at Ethan. He couldn't believe Mac had been this candid about ... Wait. Harm's eyes narrowed. Where the hell did this guy get off telling him he was at fault? That he hurt Mac? His surprise at Mac's candidness turned to anger towards Ethan, and some part of his brain registered that this turn was fueled by jealousy and by hurt. He used to be the person Mac talked to about personal stuff. He was the guy she went to. He hated - absolutely hated - that she'd replaced him. And it killed him to hear of his relationship with Mac spoken of in the past tense. He was still her family, dammit. She was the one who'd bailed on him when things got tough.

Harm was so incensed, he couldn't see straight.

He stepped up to Ethan, who didn't budge an inch. They were standing face to face. Harm was now convinced he had an inch on the guy. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're the one who's in the dark." Ethan was holding his ground, hands on his hips. "You haven't seen how's she's been this last year."

"Not by choice," Harm ground out.

"She's only been a phone call away," Ethan was barely keeping his voice level.

"She's the one who left me," Harm wanted to punch Ethan in the face. He clenched his hands by his side to keep that from happening. "You only got one side of the story."

The chime above the front entrance jingled. They both turned to the door to see a middle-aged woman standing there.

"Oh, sorry," She hesitated, her body language tense. "I can come back..." She was halfway out the door when Ethan hurried to her.

"No, Ma'am." He called after the woman, wearing a friendly smile. "I'm sorry, my friend and I were talking about last night's game. We root for opposing teams."

The woman looked at Harm, who plastered a responding smile on his face. "I keep telling Ethan that Shaq ruined basketball." He offered, "He just won't listen."

She seemed to buy it, because she slowly relaxed. She returned Harm's smile. "Oh, don't say that in front of my husband. You wouldn't make it out alive!"

Harm laughed with her, hoping it didn't sound too forced. The woman then let Ethan tend to her business. While he did so, Harm slowly powered down. He really had been about to punch the man. The last time he did that...

Harm sighed. He needed to handle all of this better. If he got upset with Ethan for saying all that about him and Mac, how would he react if he heard it from Mac? He couldn't let his anger cloud his judgment. Harm rubbed a hand behind his neck. He wasn't going to let himself get all riled up like that again. He walked around the showroom, trying to collect himself and diffuse the pent up aggression his exchange with Ethan had engendered.

Twenty minutes later, the woman finally left. Ethan shut the door behind her, and then turned to Harm.

"Look," He said, "Sorry, that got out of hand..."

Harm waved away the apology that he had not been expecting. "I also got carried away."

Ethan nodded. They both stood across the room, waiting for the other to go first.

"Why did you come here?" Ethan finally asked.

Here goes, Harm thought. Ethan seemed decent. Harm figured Ethan would realize just how involved he was with Mac, and walk away. And if Harm could put in a nudge or a push to stack the deck in his favour...

"I came here because..." He hesitated, unsure if he should reveal all his cards. No guts, no glory, he told himself. He wouldn't deny and dissemble like he'd done once before. "Because I wanted to know if you and Mac were involved."

Ethan paused, clearly not expecting that answer. "If we were, you'd back off?"

Harm stared at Ethan. Answering a question with a question was usually an answer in itself. They weren't involved. Slowly, he shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the other man. "She means too much to me. I ... I let her go once, I won't make that same mistake again."

Ethan looked away with a heavy sigh. "Sarah doesn't know what she wants."

"She told you that?" Harm tried to sound nonchalant while his heart beat a thousand beats in the space of a second.

"Yeah," Ethan confirmed in quiet voice, and Harm felt an odd camaraderie with the man, that they shared some understanding. "She told me that." Ethan looked at Harm, reluctant but curious. "You said I only knew one side of the story. What's yours?"

This time, Harm didn't pause for thought.

"I love her." Saying the words out loud was such a relief. He could feel the muck and mire of his guilt slowly peel away, just at admitting this out loud. He should have told her so long ago... "We went through a rough patch, but I thought we'd get out of it." He shook his head, upset with himself. With hindsight, he could see every point where things went wrong, where the shit progressively hit the fan. "I thought we had time to figure things out, but then she left."

"She thought you didn't want her."

"Nothing," Harm shook his head vehemently, how his anguish over this had kept him up nights. He spoke with a conviction her rarely felt when it came to his heart. "Nothing could have been further from the truth. I just didn't know how to show her."

"Why didn't you try to find her?" Ethan asked. "Why wait until you just randomly ran into her?"

"I was..." He couldn't do it. Couldn't lay himself that open, admit he was afraid... "I thought she didn't want to see me." Was actually afraid that she didn't. He didn't want that confirmed, to show up at her door and watch her slam it back shut in his face.

Ethan was staring at the ground. Harm waited for a response, but nothing came. He felt terrible about wanting to punch Ethan in the face earlier. He really was a decent guy.

"Hey," Harm tried to get his attention, compelled to apologize for getting angry with him earlier. He thought they understood each other better now. "Are we good?"

Ethan was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at Harm and shook his head. "You know," He said, "I wish I'd never met you." He sighed, and then walked towards the door at the back of the showroom. "You can show yourself out."

Harm watched him walk away, before directing his own feet to the exit. He couldn't decide what to make of this meeting. He had a couple of flying lessons to give this afternoon. After that, he was going to have to think some things through. He knew how Ethan felt about Mac, and he sure as hell knew how he felt about Mac. But he had no idea what Mac was feeling.

He had to figure out a way to find out.

--

_That evening..._

Harm returned to the deck of his parents' house following his ten mile run. He saw his mother sitting cross-legged on a lawn chair, her laptop set in front of her.

"Hey, Mom." He greeted, pouring himself some iced tea from the jug on the table.

"How was your run?" She asked, half-paying attention to him. She was busy typing away, and he figured it had to do with the new exhibit opening at her gallery on Thursday night.

"Great," He replied, taking a seat next to her. He idly enjoyed the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. It was soothing to live near the ocean again. He just wished it would've helped him formulate a plan for seeing Mac again. He'd thought about it all afternoon, and he was still drawing a blank.

"Harm," Trish asked suddenly, "Should I put you down on the guest list for opening night for the new exhibit on Thursday? I could squeeze you in?"

"Mom," Harm began his automatic protest, "You know I-" He stopped in mid-sentence, struck by a brilliant idea. He changed tracks. "What's the show about?"

"Exhibit," Trish corrected, staring at him in shock that he hadn't refused right off the bat.

"Right. Exhibit." He waited for her to answer, and it took Trish a moment to recoup from her surprise.

"It's the work of young man, he really has talent. Mostly acrylic on canvas. Some photo collages. Harm, you should see the way he uses colour-"

"Who else is on the guest list?" He interrupted before she got too caught up. It wasn't as though he actually wanted an answer. Just an appropriate segue to his next question.

"Where are you going with this?" Trish asked, her tone both firm and suspicious.

"What?" He shrugged, trying to look innocent. "Just asking."

"No, you never 'just ask'. Spit it out."

"I was just thinking that, uh, Mac is a pretty big fan of art." He was clearly lying, and by the look on his mother's face, doing a terrible job of it. "She enjoys it ... all the, uh, colours."

To his utter surprise, and much to his offense, his mother burst into hearty laughter.

"What?" He defended.

"Harmon, darling, you are as transparent as a brick wall!" She was still laughing softly, looking at him with a warm fondness.

"C'mon, Mom." He protested weakly.

"You don't have to be all cloak and dagger about it, Harm. If you want Mac to come, I can simply add her to the guest list."

"I wasn't being-" Harm began to protest anew before stopping himself. He didn't want to have this conversation with her, so he wasn't about to give her an opening. One added benefit of law school was that he'd developed some pretty great skills at keeping his mother's prying questions at bay.

"You'll call her to invite her?" Trish asked.

That stopped Harm cold. "What? No, I think you should do it." He wasn't sure Mac would accept if he called and invited her, but she would hardly refuse his mother.

"Harm," Trish began, her tone completely serious. "What's going on here?"

"What do you mean what's going on? It would just really please Mac if you called and invited her. I mean, you did offer to have her over for dinner."

She wasn't buying it, but she relented. "Fine, I'll give her a call."

Harm relaxed, relieved that she hadn't prodded any further. Now, he had three days to come up with a plan. Based on his conversation with Ethan - he still felt jealousy rear its ugly head at the thought of how honest Mac had been with the other man - he thought he might make some serious headway with her if he was as honest as he had been with her on Saturday, at the gallery. Of course, that time it had been unplanned, the unchecked result of a year apart, thinking of her, wishing for her, regretting all the steps along their journey together that took her away from him.

"There," His mother said as she entered Mac's name onto her list. "Sarah MacKenzie plus one."

"Plus one!" Harm sat up in his chair, startled. That would seriously dampen his plan, whatever his plan would be. "Wait-"

"Just kidding, darling!" His mom exclaimed. She grinned, looking very pleased with herself. "I was teasing. As far as the guest list and I are concerned, you are bringing Mac as your guest."

"Not funny, Mom." He leaned back in his chair. And his mother wondered why he didn't freely talk about his personal life with her.

"Harm," Trish put a hand on his arm. "In all seriousness, we can invite Mac over for dinner. I don't know what happened between you two, but if there's anything I can do..."

"No, Mom, don't worry about it. I can handle it from here." He just wanted somewhat neutral ground to speak with her. The rest really was up to him. Hopefully she'd be receptive ... the thought of Thursday night tightened his heart. He didn't know what he'd do if she told him she wanted nothing from him, expected nothing. Hearing that once was enough for a lifetime. He'd have to plan this out carefully.

--

_Joint Legal Services, the next morning..._

"Ma'am," P.O. Coates voice sounded over the intercom in Mac's office. "There's a call for you on line one. A Mrs. Burnett."

Mac half contemplated telling Coates to take a message. "I'll take it." She said instead, reaching for the phone. "Thanks, Jen."

"Your welcome, Ma'am."

Mac pressed the button to connect the line. She took a deep breath. "MacKenzie."

"Sarah? This is Trish Burnett, Harm's mother."

"Yes, Ma'am. It's nice to hear from you. How are you?"

"Just fine, thank you." Trish sounded amused. "And yourself?"

"Well, Ma'am."

"You must stop being so formal with me, Sarah." Trish chastised with humour in her voice. "I promise I don't bite."

"Sorry, Ma-," Mac stopped herself in time. She also told herself off for hiding her discomfort with this phone call behind formality. "Trish."

"Don't you worry about it. I called for a very specific reason. Do you have plans this Thursday evening?"

Oh no, Mac thought. Trish was extending that offer to dinner she'd promised. Mac couldn't do it. But was there a graceful way out of this? Ultimately, her hesitation cost her.

"I'm really in a tight spot, Mac," Trish spoke again. "And I could use a favour."

That grabbed Mac's attention. And she wasn't about to refuse Harm's mother a favour. She could never do that.

"Anything, Trish. Name it."

"Well, I have an exhibit opening at the gallery on Thursday night - it's this fabulous young artist - and I'm a few guests short. It really is important to have a full house at these things, you know, build the hype. Would you be willing to come? It's nothing too fancy. Cocktail attire. Starts at 7PM."

That didn't sound like much of a big deal. "Of course, Trish. I'd be more than happy to. Should I bring someone with me?"

Mac thought Harriet might enjoy a night out. And it would give her good company, with the added bonus of filling Trish's gallery with one more person.

Trish, to Mac's surprise, was quick to jump in. "No! Don't do that!"

Mac frowned at Trish's sudden animation.

"I mean," Trish said a moment later, in a much calmer voice. "I've called a few people already. It'll be fine. I really would like you to come. Besides, I do have an ulterior motive."

It suddenly occurred to Mac that she should've asked if Harm would be there. Hadn't Harm gone on and on about his mother nagging him about his personal life, intruding? But that was a silly thought to have, Mac told herself. In the first place, Trish's mother would hardly see her as a suitable match for Harm, of all the women she likely knew and could set up her son with. Especially after that terribly stilted reunion at her gallery on Saturday. In the second place, it's not like she could decline the invitation just because he would be there. Besides, Harm always hated this kind of event, and she knew he found his mother's fascination with art and her ownership of a gallery completely mystifying. He probably wouldn't be there. She crossed her fingers, hoping that would be true. She didn't yet know how she'd react to seeing him again. And if he touched her ... She needed more time, more strength.

"Ulterior motive, Ma'am?" Mac questioned, wincing at her retreat into formality.

"Why of course, Mac. All these years my son went on and on about you, and yet you and I have never spent any real time getting to know each other. Admittedly, opening night isn't the best time for that, but I hope that you and I can at least be friends. This would be a good start."

Mac was touched. "Thank you, Trish. I'd really like that."

"Wonderful," Trish enthused. "I'll send you an invitation. You should be getting it by messenger this afternoon."

"Thank you, Trish. I look forward to it."

"You're very welcome, Mac. Although I should warn you that you're setting a precedent. I may take shameless advantage and call you every time I'm in a tight spot in the future!"

Mac grinned and Trish's sense of humour. "I'd be honoured to be a standing stand in for you, Trish."

Trish laughed. "You take care, Mac. I'll send that invite along to you."

"Bye, Trish."

"Goodbye, Darling."

Mac hung the phone, a smile on her face. Harm's mom really was great. Mac set aside her own misgivings about ambushes from meddling moms. Harm clearly was biased in his view of his own mother. Mac thought Trish was sweet and, given that she hadn't even mentioned Harm once, not the meddling kind. She'd bet Harm had no idea what his mother was up to.

Her good mood dimmed slightly at the thought of Harm actually being at the gallery opening. And then she wondered what Ethan was up to. He hadn't been in touch with her, and Mac didn't feel confident enough in her own mind to call him up. She didn't know what to do, and it seemed that time apart might give her some insight. One thing was true, though: she missed him.

A knock on her door pulled Mac from her thoughts. Work was hardly the place for this. She straightened in her chair and sectioned off the part of her brain that worried over the state of her personal life.

"Enter," She called curtly, now fully back in business mode. The rest was better left for later.

-- 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own.

--  
**Fresh Start 4**

Mac sat behind the wheel of her corvette, which she'd parked in this particular spot nine minutes and 43 seconds ago. She sighed. At some point, she was going to have to suck it up and get in there. What were the chances Harm wasn't going to show up? Minimal, she'd guess. He had said the last time they'd met that he would like to catch up. And the way he'd said it, implying so much more, showing her a side of him she'd rarely seen. Of all his moods, all the ways he treated her, she was most attracted to him by that rare honesty he sometimes showed her. Not the run-of-the-mill everyday honesty, but the deep-felt kind, the one that would darken his eyes and sober his demeanour. The kind that didn't have him speaking in code and cracking jokes or saying those terribly insensitive things that made her want to shake him. Mac smiled softly at remembering how he used to incense her. It occurred to her then that while she was nervous to see him, most definitely nervous, a small part of her looked forward to it. Hoped for it. 

With that thought, Mac stepped out of her car and purposefully walked towards the gallery. So what if she saw him again. It couldn't be that bad. Although she had missed him so much this past year, and the feeling had only been reinforced by seeing him on the weekend. When he'd said he would have made her see that she wasn't an obligation, that she was a...

Mac's purposeful walk faltered somewhat, devolving into a pensive stroll.

Why had he said that? Mac told herself that she should probably be prepared for a complete 180 in his attitude. She could hardly forget that his honesty with her only came when she wasn't in a position to do much about it. Whenever she pushed, he retreated.

Not that it mattered, she countered. It was likely Harm wouldn't be there anyways. Mac's pace quickened as she shook off her annoying thoughts. She was being silly. Overthinking everything. He would not be there. And if he was, well, he'd probably said all those things to her on Saturday because seeing her had thrown him for a loop and he'd just spoken without thinking or really meaning what he'd said. He'd probably said it because it had been a whole year and he was just confused, mistaking his missing her as a routine part of his life for something else and she shouldn't hope for anything, not that she was hoping for anything, she was just going to a gallery opening and that was all, she was expecting nothing, especially not him to be there and she was the biggest, fattest, more terribly ridiculous liar on the entire face of the planet.

And that concluding thought found Mac on the doorstep of the gallery. She took a minor pause to settle her thoughts - mainly to silence the voice in her that was rather manically telling her to get out of here because she didn't know what she was doing - and then stepped through the doors that the doorman was holding open for her. Mac nodded her thanks to him, and then let herself take in the scene in front of her. It was, Mac thought for the second time that week, a lovely gallery. Trish was also right, the artist who was premiering tonight was quite talented. At least to her untrained and likely uncultured eye.

Mac caught sight of Trish and made her way over, forcing her gaze not to wander the room in search. She wondered how long she would have to stay here, severely doubting that she would have much to say to anyone and thinking it very probable that Trish would be quite busy tonight.

"Mac!" Trish exclaimed happily, catching sight of her when she was still a few paces away. "How lovely that you made it! You look stunning." She pulled Mac in for a quick hug, which Mac reciprocated with genuine feeling. She really did like Harm's mom. There was something unaffected about her, even in her gallery where she was hosting an opening night and, Mac guessed, schmoozing with at least a few very pretentious people.

"Thank you, Trish. It's good to see you again."

"Mac, meet Patrick Dempster," Trish indicated the man standing next to her. "Patrick, this is Sarah MacKenzie, a very good friend of my son's."

She remembered from the invite Trish had sent her that this was the artist whose work was being featured at the gallery.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. MacKenzie." Paul said, shaking the hand Mac offered.

"It's Sarah, please." Mac responded. "Your work is incredible. Congratulations on the exhibit."

Mac glanced at Trish, hoping she'd said the right thing. The warm, wide smile she saw made Max relax slightly; she actually had no idea what protocol was in this world.

"Thank you," Paul replied, his sincerity quite evident. "I-"

He was cut off by an older woman who tapped Trish's shoulder and announced, "Trish, darling, you have outdone yourself." The woman then turned to Paul, offering her hand. "Evie Longhorn, pleased to meet you."

Mac's eyes widened at the other woman's interjection, but she quickly lost interest in the turn the conversation took towards common acquaintances in the art world. A waiter passed by, and Mac helped herself to a glass of water, taking the opportunity to study the painting on display closest to her. She didn't know what it was, but there was something quite appealing in the almost frenetic bursts of blue on the canvas. The colours were calm, and yet their was an underlying panic to their application. Mac decided she liked the painting.

"It's remarkable, isn't it?" Trish asked by her shoulder, apparently having left Patrick and Evie to carry on the conversation without her.

Mac nodded in agreement. "It's very appealing."

"I am sorry about earlier," Trish nodded her head in the direction of Mrs. Longhorn.

"Please, don't worry about it."

"Mac," Trish hesitated, which caused Mac to look at her, suddenly wary. "Sarah, I don't mean to be overbearing, and it isn't my place so I don't want to intrude, but I do have to be honest."

Mac suddenly felt as though there were too many people in the room, all speaking in loud tones, filling up all the space-

"I just wanted you to know that Harm suggested I invite you here."

Mac's increasing panic was abruptly silenced. "What?" She repeated, because she wasn't sure she'd heard right.

Trish nodded. "I don't know what happened last year, but Harm hasn't been the same ... We thought it was because he'd resigned his commission and he missed the Navy, but by the way he reacted to seeing you on Saturday, I don't think it was leaving the Navy that had him so ... disheartened."

Mac stared at the glass of water in her hands, and avoided looking at Trish. She felt guilty. And ashamed, although she couldn't figure out why.

"Trish..."

"No, no," Trish said quickly, waving her hand to stop Mac, "You don't have to say anything to me. All I know is that since seeing you on Saturday, the fire is back in his eyes."

She didn't know what to say, and she was afraid of what it would mean if she let herself hope. She didn't want to hope, and yet...

"So," Trish continued, "Even though it isn't my place to tell you, I just wanted you to know that Harm never comes to my gallery openings. He hasn't come once in his entire life; tonight is the first time."

Mac's grip tightened on the stem of her glass. Something bloomed in her heart, and she tried to fight it down.

"Mom, Mac," Harm said, suddenly standing next to them. Mac tried not to appear startled, tried not to notice how his eyes were fixed on her, even as he gave his mother a greeting kiss on the cheek.

"If you'll excuse me," Trish said brightly, "I have to mingle." She squeezed Mac's arm before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Harm and Mac in an awkward silence.

"You look beautiful," Harm said.

"How are you?" Mac spoke at the same time.

Mac cleared her throat, "Thank you," She said awkwardly, looking down at her still half-full glass of water. Neither said anything, and Mac wondered what safe topic they could talk about.

"This is a nice painting," She said, latching on to the work she'd been admiring with Trish earlier.

He remained silent. She hazarded a quick look in his direction, and found him still watching her, just as he had on Saturday.

She wanted to cut through the tension, find something, anything, to say. "Did you bring someone?" She asked, then remembered what Trish had told her only a moment after the words left her mouth. She felt even more awkward. "I mean-"

"I'm here with you," He said quietly, still watching her with that unnerving intensity. "Mac," He said her name with such singular intent, such longing, Mac's breath caught in her throat. He held his hand out to her. It was an offering, a plea.

Her hand trembled to touch his.

"Please." He whispered.

She slid her hand into his waiting one, not really master of her own actions, and watched in fascination as his long fingers wrapped around hers. Her hand seemed so small next to his, his touch so warm on her skin. It entranced her, holding hands with him. A strange mix of elation and distress, of sadness took possession of her, and she was powerless to do anything but follow him as he led her out of the crowded main hall. Mac registered little of her surroundings beyond the feel of his hand around hers. The balmy evening air welcomed her back to reality, and Mac found herself standing on a balcony with him.

He leaned against the balustrade, and then just looked at her. His eyes slowly roaming her face. She had never before known a man whose look was a caress, whose touch was a silent promise. She hadn't known this Harm.

"Mac," He began. "I need to tell you..." He trailed off, taking both of her hands in his. She could see it in his eyes, the honesty, the one that always crumbled her defenses, that made her ache for him. "I need you to know that you were wrong." His fingers traced her cheek, slid through her hair. Mac didn't know what to do with herself. Her enjoyment of his touch, the look in his eyes, his voice, was overwhelming.

"I really have given this a lot of thought, Sarah. I should have been clear, made you understand. I guess I just took for granted that you would. I never," His tone was emphatic, "Never saw you as any kind of burden, of obligation. I didn't think that my behaviour would give you that impression. I was angry, but Mac," The pain in his voice was clear, and it made her realize how difficult this last year had been for him. Trish had been right: there was something missing in his eyes. She could see that now.

"Mac," He continued, his voice now more even, "We'd been through so much together, how could a little anger, a little impatience tear us apart like it did?" His grip on her hand tightened, he pulled her a step closer, his eyes holding her captive. "I didn't think it could. I thought our friendship, our relationship was stronger than that. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. It's unforgivable."

"Harm," She didn't know what to say. Tears formed in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away.

"Can you give me one more chance?"

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say no.

"Just one, Mac." He persisted. "We can take it real slow, explore this, you and me." He brushed her bangs away from her face, and Mac found herself leaning into his touch. She'd forgotten the comfort she found with him, how good it felt to be touched by him.

Wasn't this everything she wanted? But could she trust it? Him? Herself?

"There'll be no regulations to get in the way, nothing." He continued, "A fresh start, Mac, the slate wiped clean."

So many reactions overpopulating her head - How could this work? How would it? Where would they start? - but none were making their way into words.

"Just, just don't tell me that there can't be anything." He continued, his voice heavy with regret, with worry, "That you've moved on this past year, that ... that you and ... and Ethan, that you have something serious." He brought her hand up against his chest, over his heart. "I won't lie, Mac, I mean, I want you to be happy, but I..." He looked down at his chest, at their joined hands. "I want to be a part of that happiness." His gaze returned to hers, "I'm ready, Sarah, and I can wait for you. However much time you need."

Mac had never been more attracted to him than she was now, his eyes dark, their intensity intoxicating. And the words he was saying to her ... She was again being sucked in, and she found herself feeling terrified. That one person could hold such sway over her that a year apart and an honest effort at a full life, a simple one, had all become meaningless because of one look, a few earnest words. She felt that exact mix of emotion she used to feel around him, on those rare occasions when her awareness of him used to fill the room and press against her heart. Uncertain and conscious and alive.

"Harm," She lifted her hand to touch his face, but then hesitated. She wanted to ask him if he was sure, if he knew what he was doing, if he was ... committed to this course. But she couldn't bring herself to ask. The way he was watching her, waiting, broke her heart. She'd always hated seeing him hurt.

"Okay," She said, and wished her voice had been slightly stronger. "But we take this slow," She studied his face for his reaction. "I don't know if ... I mean, I think we need time to be friends again." So I can remind myself what it used to feel like to trust you, she added silently.

He was quick to agree. "Anything you want, Mac." His relief loosened the tight set of his jaw, dissipated the tension in his shoulders. His grip on her hand loosened. "Anything." He grinned his full, happy grin, and Mac felt the full weight of her loss from this past year, at not having seen that smile. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, to digest the full brunt of what they were doing here. God, she hoped she was doing the right thing, she hoped she could handle this.

--

_The next day..._

Mac knocked on the heavy oak door in front of her, and waited for an answer. The door opened a few seconds later.

"Hey." Ethan said, smiling at her with a mix of hope and trepidation.

"Hey." Mac replied, and tried to return his smile. "Can I come in?"

"Please," He moved aside and held the door open. His smile slowly fading as he watched her.

He shut the door once she came in, but took a moment before turning around to face her.

"I can tell: I'm not going to like this, am I?" He sighed.

Mac looked at the floor. She felt awful about this, but she'd realized last night, once she was back at her place, that she really did want to see if she and Harm could make things work. She wanted it with the deepest parts of her heart. Despite all the hurt, the recriminations and the misunderstandings that littered their past, despite how unsure and afraid she felt. She didn't know how to explain it, how to put it in words, but what she felt for him overpowered all the rest of it. This warm ember of feeling that just would not be extinguished. A feeling that had run the range from steady flame to dull roar; that had been reduced almost to bare ashes and that had sometimes blazed a sharp heat that blinded her. But it had never gone away, much as she had tried to douse it, to smother it, to ignore it. She loved him, and it was as simple and as complicated as that.

Ethan sighed, and Mac tried to find the words.

"Ethan," She started, forcing herself to look at him as she spoke. "I'm-"

"Look," He cut her off, wearing a smile that only made the pain he was attempting to mask more evident. "Don't say you're sorry, okay. I don't want to hear it." The undercurrent of anger in his tone caught her so off guard, Mac couldn't respond.

He just shook his head, and didn't look at her.

"I didn't want, I didn't expect this to happen," Mac tried to reach him somehow. She hadn't really seen his temper before this. Sure he'd been upset about things, but never in such a potent form, not in front of her.

His laugh was slightly bitter. "Right. Didn't expect..." He trailed off, visibly attempting to change tracks, and she waited for his infamous honesty to slap her right in the face. "I wish you'd been more upfront from the beginning."

"Would it have made a difference?" She answered, getting upset herself.

"It would've been nice to know I was a replacement." He countered.

"You were never that," Mac's tone was firm. She knew it, and she guessed he knew it. This wasn't him speaking. All that they had shared had been nothing short of genuine. "You-"

"Do you really think you're doing the right thing here?" He cut her off before she could finish, sounding desperate. "I mean..." He trailed off, searching her face for an answer.

It was Mac's turn to look away. "I don't know, to be honest. I don't know."

"Then why? I mean, he hurt you and you..." His voice was oddly thick, and Mac had to swallow her tears. She crossed her arms over her chest, Ethan's intensity made her feel exposed.

"I ... I don't know how to explain it. I just ... he..." Mac took a deep breath and tried to verbalize the rush of emotions in her. "He's my ... anchor. Does that make sense?" She asked him, not really looking for an answer. "I see him, and I just feel ... like..." Mac struggled with her meaning. "The thought of living without him, of having this life that he's not in ... I feel lost. I have been. I mean, I tried this last year, I really did. I put everything I had in trying to build something, to move beyond the complications, but I can't. Maybe that makes me weak, but I don't know how else to be." And this, she thought, was the crux of it. It was a huge admission to make; she hated being weak. But what else was there? She didn't know. God, if she'd known how much it could hurt to feel this strongly about a person, she would have transferred out of JAG the very day she'd been permanently assigned. Hell, she would've turned down the assignment.

But then, she would have lost out on so much...

"He has been so wonderful to me." Mac said, her own thoughts wandering over those soft, warm memories she'd hidden away for so long. "We really were the best of friends, incredibly close. I have never had that kind of bond with anyone. And Harm's right about that: all the good we've had, that connection we shared, I can't forget it because of some bad times. He's genuinely willing to try to make this work. For all those years he was silent, through those difficult times when I thought I was the only one carrying the weight, working to try and fix things..." Mac trailed off. She honestly hadn't known that he hadn't felt pressured by her, pushed into a corner with the cloying neediness of her feelings towards him. She'd had no clue. She wondered if he actually meant what he'd said last night. But, then, Harm wasn't a liar ... Mac shook herself out of her doubts. There was no point in falling into that spiral of doubt. They had to work better at communicating their feelings, instead of retreating into the hell of second-guessing and questioning. "I can't ignore what he's given me, what we had together. And, honestly, he's never been this upfront with me before. Maybe we can make a go of things-"

"And if you can't?" Ethan asked suddenly, and it made Mac pause in her monologue. She'd forgotten she was speaking to someone else.

"If we can't," Mac said with a deep-felt conviction, "Then at least we put in an honest effort at trying. It's more than we've done before. And I cannot turn my back on him when he's willing to do this. I can't."

Ethan shook his head. He looked her in the eye. "You're letting him walk all over you."

Mac frowned. "He's changed-"

"You think he has." Ethan pointed out. "He didn't look you up since he moved here - how long ago did he move her?"

Mac didn't let herself listen to him. "This isn't your place-"

"I'm trying to look out for you!" Ethan exclaimed, his frustration increasingly evident. "You're getting all swept away by him. You haven't seen him in a year, you obviously care for him a great deal but what has he done? Nothing except sweet talked you-"

"Ethan," Mac warned, clamping down on her own doubts. She knew her heart well enough to know that she was doing what she had to, what she needed to. Right or wrong, that was something she'd have to deal with. But it was her decision. "I am not having this conversation with you."

"You are so stubborn," He gave a humourless laugh and rolled his eyes.

"I'm going," Mac said, her own temper rising. "Before one of us says something we'll both regret."

Ethan abruptly turned around and swung the door open for her. Mac got the message. She stalked out his door, glancing at him only long enough to see that he wasn't even looking at her. It served only to increase her anger.

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing down the hallway. Mac clenched her jaw, thoroughly dissatisfied and just plain angry with how that had gone. How infuriating.

--


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: Sorry for the huge gaps in posting. Life is busy ... Anyways, this bit is nice and long.

--

**Fresh Start 5**

Mac leaned against the window in her living room, staring out at the view. It was a wonderful day. The early morning had been overcast, but a strong wind had started just as she'd finished her morning run. It had blown the palm trees to an angle and chased the large, grey clouds away. And now the sun was shining brightly and Mac was busy thinking. What was she feeling, waiting for Harm to show up for their ... first date. It was their first date. Eight years. First date. Mac found herself smiling. She wondered what it would be like. She wondered if he would be on time, and that thought made her laugh.

She wasn't nervous though, and that was as surprising as it was comforting. She was looking forward to it. Not looking forward to it in an excited kind of way. It was more with a sense of curiosity. Mac shook her head at herself. That was a lie. She was a little excited. Just a little. She bit her lip and tried to suppress a smile.

But she was also very curious. And that thought made her sigh. They had so much to talk about, and he seemed so ... confident about all this. At least more confident than she was. What did he have planned? What would they say to each other. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, so much she should probably say, but she didn't want to upset this tenuous balance he'd struck. There was a time when she was willing, or at least able, to tell him her darkest secrets. He hadn't felt the same, she knew. But now?

Her doorbell rang.

He was on time. Actually, 4 minutes and 39 seconds early. Mac took a deep breath. She'd take his lead on this, wouldn't push things. She couldn't shake the feeling that his newfound honesty would last only as long as he saw her as unavailable, only as long as their year of separation was fresh in his mind. After all, he hadn't sought her out. One year. And although talking openly probably beat second guessing and doubting, she wasn't ready to get hurt. Not that deeply, not again.

She headed to the front door, smoothing her dress before she let him in. Mac counted to three, giving herself time to tuck away her doubts, and then opened the door.

"Harm," Her smile was genuine at seeing him. Her sudden trepidation equally so.

"Hey," He answered, his smile was warm but it was his eyes that caught her. The way he was looking at her...

"You look beautiful." He said softly, and held out a vase teeming with white lilies towards her. "You like lilies, right?" He seemed a little off-balance and self-conscious, which actually served to make her feel better. He was trying to figure out his way around this, just as she was.

"Thank you, Harm," She took the bouquet from him and set it down on the side table. "They're lovely," She added, absently staring at the flowers, fingering the petals. It made her feel a tiny burst of happiness right in the centre of her heart, that he would go out of his way to pick these up. "Thank you," She repeated, looking up at him.

He was watching her as though she formed the centre of the universe.

Mac cleared her throat, not quite sure how to handle this. It was all good and well at a gallery with his mother and Ethan behind a door, or on a balcony while trying to ignore the clinking glass and lively chatter going on beneath them. But here, now, they were alone. Just the two of them.

"Let's go," He said, motioning with his arm, his demeanour suddenly less intense and more familiar. She sensed that he'd caught on to her sudden discomfort. "I thought we could park my car at my place, and then walk to the restaurant." He spoke while she locked her door.

"That's fine," She agreed readily, following him to his car, rather bewildered by how nervous she was feeling all of a sudden.

"It's only a ten minute walk from my apartment." He added quickly, and then paused. He winked at her. "I hope you're wearing comfortable shoes."

Her reply to that comment was forgotten when she saw his car.

"Your Corvette!" She exclaimed. "Oh, I've really missed her."

Harm grinned as he held the passenger door open for her. "An advantage of the climate here is that I can drive her year-round with the top down. Not to mention I live in a safer neighbourhood."

"I still can't believe you were too cheap to even rent out a covered garage, or put a tracker on your car!" Mac laughed as she climbed in, remembering her and Mario Bigi's reaction to hearing that Harm didn't have a LoJack system installed. Only he would take such good care of his car, keeping it shining and pristine, but not take precautions against the unplanned - like it getting stolen. " You'd think you'd take better care of something you valued so much."

"Well, I learned my lesson." He told her as he settled himself in the driver's seat and started the car. Mac closed her eyes at the familiar sound of the engine. She'd recognize that sound anywhere.

"Learned your lesson?" She asked, enjoying the purr of the engine, the rumble as the car came to life.

"Yep." He said good-humouredly. "I have a covered garage that I tuck her safely into at night. I also realized there isn't a price too high to make sure I can find her, should I lose her again."

"Hey," Mac couldn't help but tease him and his love for his car, "Did you know my Corvette is male?"

Harm laughed, just a little embarrassed. "Funny, Marine."

Mac enjoyed that she could still make him laugh like this. She listened as his laughter petered out, bringing her a sense of calm, a deep breath that eased the most pressing of her worries. She slid her fingers over the gear stick, traced the familiar lines of the dashboard of his Corvette. "We should go for a drive one day," She found herself saying. "Along the shore with the top down. We could stop for ice cream and greasy fries at one of those snack stands on the beaches by the road."

She turned to look at him and found that he was trying to hide a smile, his eyes fixed on the road. His entire demeanour exuded confidence and a lazy arrogance. Mac bit back a laugh. If he'd been walking, it would have manifested itself as a strut.

"Any day you want, Mac," He said, he glanced at her, wearing a soft smile. "Any time."

She found herself being charmed by him. He'd never behaved this way with her, like she was a woman he wanted to spend more time with. Like he wanted her, she was worth pursuing. Mac turned to focus on the scenery they were driving by, not quite able to handle the open affection in his gaze, or all the implications it brought.

"Here we are," He said, not even ten minutes later, pulling up beside a three-story apartment building that faced the beach.

"Harm," She exclaimed, looking around her. "This is not even a ten minute drive from my place!"

"Took me by surprise, too." He chuckled, switching off the engine. "I think it's fate, MacKenzie. You can't get away from me."

--

"Will that be all, Ma'am, Sir?"

Harm looked to Mac, waiting for her reply. He sincerely hoped she liked this restaurant; he was, after all, on a mission to impress her. She returned her menu to the waiter with a smile. "That's it for me. Thank you."

"Thanks," Harm nodded to the waiter, and waited for him to leave before turning to Mac. "So," He asked, "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"Harm," She grinned, her eyes sparkling. Beautiful, he thought. "You brought me to a burger place with an ocean view. I love it! I just can't believe I haven't ever been here before."

He flashed her his best smile, pleased that this was her first time here, and he was the one to show it to her. "You're slipping, Marine. In DC you knew where every burger restaurant was. I believe you even had a few on speed dial."

She laughed, "Nice try. I would have heard of this place if it featured real burgers on the menu."

"Fishburgers are real burgers, Mac." He countered, enjoying the familiarity of their banter. "You're just not thinking big."

He was really having a great time. She looked gorgeous, had pretty much asked him out for a second date within ten minutes of this first one, and now she was laughing and smiling with him. Watching her as she sipped her drink and stared out at the ocean, though, he reminded himself that this wasn't only about having fun. He was supposed to winning her over. Winning her back. He wasn't sure which, and it didn't really matter since the outcome would be the same as far as he was concerned.

"How's work?" He asked, leaning back in his chair in an attempt to look casual despite the topic he was bringing up. He didn't think much about JAG and the Navy in his free time, and didn't care to explore his reasons why that was.

She studied him for a moment before answering. "Good. It's been a good challenge. I got quite a bit of leeway in setting up the office since it's a whole new project. And it really is fun to be in charge, to shape all this new blood. I mean, overlooking the necessary politicking involved."

"I'm sure you're good at it."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Thanks."

He hid his frown, not liking that she didn't know whether he was being sincere. Then again, he hadn't exactly expressed his faith in her abilities the first time she'd told him about her new position. "You always were the more diplomatic between us, Mac." He shrugged.

"Now I know you're messing with me."

It took him a moment to register that she was teasing him. He laughed. "You're right, what was I thinking? Your version of diplomacy is pulling a gun on your partner on your first mission together."

"That's right." She mockingly wagged her finger at him. "They beat the diplomacy right out of us Marines in boot camp."

Best date ever, he grinned. "Don't remind me," He heaved a long-suffering sigh. "And what new blood are you feasting on these days?"

"Actually, not all new blood. I managed to convince Bud to accept a position here."

"Bud's here?!" He exclaimed, surprised.

"Yeah. Harriet wasn't keen at first, but I managed to convince her. It took a while - six months, actually. The whole family is here."

"She is stubborn." Harm allowed.

Mac grinned. "Tell me about it. I told her she should have been a Marine. She makes me seem like a pushover."

They shared a laugh, but he caught some hesitation behind hers. He thought he might be able to guess at the source of it. Here goes, he told himself. Win her back.

"How's little AJ?" He asked, opening the door to the question he thought she wanted to ask. "Growing like a weed, I'd bet."

"He is," She nodded, and he watched her struggle with her hesitation. "You didn't keep in touch?"

He looked at her, slowly shaking his head. One more thing he had to explain to her. At times it seemed insurmountable, all the air they had to clear. He waited for her to ask the question.

"Your meals," The waiter appeared with dishes in his hand. "A seared tuna burger with wasabi fries for the lady," He laid Mac's plate in front of her. "And a cajun salmon burger with sweet potato fries for the gentleman," The waiter set Harm's plate in front of him.

"Thank you," They both said, and Harm for his part was thankful for the interruption. No matter how much he may have thought about what to tell her and how to tell her when she asked about the past year, the thought of actually doing so still made him nervous.

"How's work for you?" She asked instead. "You said you opened your own flying school."

He started breathing again. He could skirt around the issue for a while longer, it seemed. "It's going pretty great." He answered, setting his napkin on his lap and starting on his fries. "An old friend of my dad's - they'd served together in Vietnam - had a flying school. I hangared Sarah at his airfield when I moved. Turned out he was ready to retire and was looking for someone to take the school off his hands. It was a pretty sweet deal - a large airfield, a well-trained staff, lots of clients and I was able to bring in quite a bit more. I even get more time off than I used to working at JAG and a flexible schedule." He grinned at her. The flight school was the best thing to happen to him in the last year - besides running into Mac at his mother's gallery.

"And I'm sure the fact that you get to fly a lot helps," She waved a fry at him.

"It does." He laughed. "Although this wasn't exactly what I'd pictured myself doing."

"I, well," She was hesitating again, poking at her food.

"What, Mac?"

"I guess," She took a breath and looked him in the eye. "I guess I can't see you enjoying a job that doesn't involve some measure of excitement."

"You're the one who likes guns, remember?" He tried for a distraction, her question hitting too close to home. Her worries mirrored those he'd felt when he'd first agreed to take over the school. It seemed she hadn't lost the ability to read him like an open book.

"Seriously, Harm. You're a thrill-seeker. It just seems that teaching people how to fly doesn't quite fit the bill."

He looked down at his plate. "At first I would've agreed with you." He glanced up at Mac, who was watching him carefully as she made headway on her burger. He didn't understand it himself, much less explain it to her, but running the flying school had been really good for him. "But Al was running his school like we're still back in the '70s. It's been a pretty involved project bringing his operation up to date, improving efficiency and bringing in better equipment - like computers. Besides," He said, ready to move away from such serious matters - a strategic retreat he told himself. "I'll have you know my life is in danger every time I go up there."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow, taking his cue on lightening their conversation.

"Yep. Nothing like giving some amateur control of the stick while 5,000 feet in the air to make you value life."

"See," She replied grinning with vindication. "I told you you're a thrill seeker."

"Eat your burger, Marine," He warned, laughing himself. "Is it a good burger?" He finally thought to ask.

"Delicious, actually. You should try some of these fries." She was holding a couple of fries in her hand, and used these to indicate her plate.

He felt a bit mischievous and emboldened by how well this date was going. It was back to old times, where she could read his cues. So he bent forward and took a bite out of the fries she was holding in her hand.

Mac looked at him, jaw dropped in surprise. He couldn't help but laugh. It was enough to pull her from her stupor.

"I'll, well, you can have these." She put his half eaten fries on his plate.

"You know," He said, sensing her genuine discomfort and deciding to change the subject. He supposed she was still a bit conflicted, and it was as understandable as it was painful. "A benefit of being an ex-fighter pilot is that it brings in a lot of new customers eager to learn from me." He added a healthy dose of cockiness to his statement, knowing it would put them back on familiar ground. Strategic retreat, he told himself. Not a step backwards.

"You do inspire confidence at the stick." She had that sparkle in her eye that used to present itself whenever she was trying to bring his ego in check.

"I do." He agreed cautiously, waiting for the punchline.

"I mean the one time you took me flying-"

"Oh no!" He laughed. "You cannot bring that up!"

"I think I just did, Harm," She was goading him.

"I'll have you know Frank trusts me enough to teach him to fly."

"Frank is taking lessons with you?" She seemed surprised.

He hesitated. Him and his big mouth. "Well, not exactly."

She burst into laughter. "You liar, he is not taking lessons!"

"He wants to," He insisted.

"But?" She was still busy dissolving into a heap of laughter.

"But," Harm defended, "Mom is not keen on him learning to fly."

"You just exude so much confidence, Harm," She teased. "Your own mother..."

He was really enjoying all her ribbing. "She trusts me, Mac. It's Frank she doesn't trust."

"Really?" She stopped laughing, and was looking slightly concerned. "She thinks he won't be able to handle flying?"

"Actually," He grinned, "She thinks he has too many expensive hobbies to add a new one to the list."

Mac returned his smile. "Smart lady."

"I don't know about that. I was really keen on teaching Frank to fly. We're conspiring to have her cave in."

"And how are you dong that?"

"Frank's birthday is coming up."

"Good plan."

"Fingers crossed. Although it might help if you put in a good word with my mom."

"You'd have to convince me first, Flyboy," She warned.

"Well, I could give you flying lessons." He gave her his most winsome smile.

Mac looked at him. "Flying lessons?" She repeated.

"Well, I do have a whole school now. I'm sure I could find you a spot. And," He threw in a wink for good measure, "I think you'd be a natural."

"Are you trying to charm me?" She asked, eyebrow arched.

"Depends." He replied, leaning over the table. "Is it working?" He thought it was; she was most definitely flirting with him.

She smiled, and then she laughed, looking away. "Harm..."

"If it makes you feel better," He cut in before she could retreat fully. "You can teach me something in exchange?"

"What would I teach you?" She gave him a questioning glance.

He studied her for a moment. What could she teach him? He really just needed an excuse to spend time with her. Inspiration struck. "Teach me how you do that time thing."

"No." She was laughing as she said this, so he figured she wasn't saying no to teaching him, just the subject matter.

"Fine, then," He feigned annoyance, though his smile gave him away. "How about you teach me Russian."

"Russian?" She cocked her head to the side. "Really?"

"Yeah," He shrugged, "It'd make Sergei happy if I spoke to him in Russian."

Mac nodded, "That sounds fair."

"Great." He grinned. Perfect. "Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you?"

"Two nights a week?" She protested. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Is your schedule too busy for that?" He didn't have to work very hard to look hurt at the thought that she was too busy for him. "I mean, I am starting from scratch. And" He threw in for good measure, "I'm pretty terrible at languages."

"Well, no," She was swayed, but still hesitant. "I'm not too busy, but are you sure?"

She really needed to stop being hesitant around him, he decided.

"Of course I'm sure, Mac." He knew it would be a great way to see more of her. "We can have dinner together and then you can teach me Russian. And Sundays are best for your flying lessons."

"Okay..." She nodded. "That works."

"Great!"

The waiter re-appeared just then to take their plates. "Can I interest you in dessert?" He asked.

"No thanks," Harm answered for them both. "Just the bill." He looked at Mac as the waiter left. "I hope you don't mind. I have dessert at home. I thought we could walk along the shore." He hoped he wasn't being too forward. Or transparent.

"Sure," Mac smiled. "Sounds wonderful."

"Good," He answered, admiring that smile of hers, grateful that the awkwardness he'd felt from her at her apartment and on and off over dinner had faded for the moment. "Great."

--

"It's a lovely evening," She said, looking up at the sky as they meandered along the shore. It was something she loved about living on the West coast: the evening weather and gorgeous sunsets.

"Not evening yet, Mac." He glanced at her. "We can make it back to my place in time to watch the sunset."

That was awfully romantic, she thought. She also thought that she had missed him so much this past year. The little things were all hitting her. The sideways glances and the affectionate smiles. His voice when he teased her, his laugh when she teased him. She sighed, wishing he'd hold her hand again as he had that night at the gallery. But then, would they even be here now, would they ever have gotten to this point if they hadn't accidentally run into each other at his mother's gallery? She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I have your favourite dessert at my place." He gave her that soft smile she hadn't known she'd been missing. "That is, assuming you haven't changed your mind this last year."

She raised an eyebrow in question. "And what dessert would that be?"

"Phish food ice cream," He supplied readily, the soft smile widening into a teasing grin. "I know you can't resist it."

She was too surprised to react to how wonderfully familiar it felt to hear him try to entice her into sharing a meal. "You remember?" She asked instead.

"Of course I remember, Mac," He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and kicking the sand with his feet. "I remember that Phish Food is your favourite ice cream. I remember that you prefer almonds to peanuts, but you absolutely love cashews. You are a sucker for cupcakes, especially with extra icing. You never turn down an offer to go watch a movie at the cinema, even if you don't like what's playing. You prefer jogging in the mornings, or at least you did in DC because you couldn't see the stars out at night. You always pack at least two books when you travel somewhere, no matter how long the trip, because you hate getting bored.

She stopped walking to stare at him, and it took him a moment to realize. He turned around to look at her.

"Harm," She stuttered, completely taken aback by this revelation. "How..."

He shrugged again, "I didn't even realize I was paying attention until you left."

Mac blinked back the sudden, inexplicable tears in her eyes. She stared out at the ocean, arms crossed, because right now she could not bear to look at him. He remembered inane details, could repeat them, told her she was valuable to him, and yet she'd spent the last year thinking she'd ruined one of the best friendships of her life. Thinking she had pressured Harm and pushed him away. Thinking these thoughts until her stomach hurt and the guilt and shame over her behaviour sat like lead in her gut. Thinking he thought terrible things about her, her neediness and her desperation. She was getting increasingly angry, and it was just easier to stare out at the ocean than to look at him.

"Mac?" He questioned softly, taking silent steps towards her in the sand.

She shook her head, pursed her lips. She needed a moment to deal with her anger. She wanted to know why he hadn't said anything before, why he hadn't stopped her a year ago, why he hadn't looked her up these last twelve months.

He stood still and waited. Mac thew him a sidelong glance. He was staring at his feet, looking uncomfortable and ... contrite. She didn't know if she could ask him about the last year. She needed to hear the answer, but she didn't want this to devolve into one of those bitter, accusing conversations they'd become so good at over time. She'd tried to avoid it all through dinner, and if his cues were anything to go by, he didn't want to talk about it.

But then, hadn't she told herself it was better to get it all out in the open instead of second guessing and doubting? But she didn't want to push him away again...

"I'm sorry, Mac. I just," He said to her, "I just want you to see how much you mean to me, how much you've always meant to me."

His words resolved her dilemma.

"You say that," She began, her voice holding less strength than she willed it, her eyes fixed on the sand between her toes. "But I haven't seen you for a year. You let me leave without saying anything." She looked up at him. "If we hadn't met at the gallery ... You didn't look me up."

He sighed and he looked restless. Mac clamped down on her heart and told herself she wouldn't let his answer hurt her.

"Let's sit," He gestured to the sand behind them with a hand.

She sat down without really thinking, too busy worrying over his answer. He settled in next to her and began sifting sand through his fingers. He was quiet long enough to think he was going to brush off the question.

"When you left," He finally started, "I was very angry. I didn't want to believe what you'd said, what that meant about the way I'd treated you, and so I hid my anger at myself behind my anger with you." He gave a deprecating laugh. "I'm learning that I don't handle rejection very well."

Mac watched his hands as sand seeped through his fingers. It was easier that looking at his face and seeing the emotion she could hear in his voice.

"It took me awhile to get past that, and to actually listen to what you were saying, rather than why you were saying it. And it took me even more time to get over my anger with myself. I think I'm still dealing with that. I hate what you thought of me, Mac. I hate that I took advantage of you. I don't even know how to make that up to you." He took a deep breath, his voice rough. "And then I couldn't stop thinking about you. Where you were, what you were doing, what I could do to make you see that you were wrong. I wanted to take away that hurt that was in your eyes the night you came to tell me you were leaving. But so much time had passed already, and I was afraid you were hating me more and more. So I kept making excuses: you didn't want to see me, you told me it was over, you wanted a new life ... but really, I just..." He faltered. Mac watched as tiny particles of sand stuck to his clammy hands. He was nervous. He rubbed his hands against his pants as he dug deep for his confession.

"Sarah, I didn't know how to face you."

Her vision blurred, and it Mac a moment to realize it was tears. She quickly rubbed them away, and looked straight ahead instead of at him. Silence settled between them, against a backdrop of crashing waves and seagulls. This was so hard to forgive, she thought, so difficult to process. All she'd felt this past year, and what he'd felt. Since when was Harm a coward?

But then, everyone was a coward once in a while. Hadn't she been one too? She rested her chin on her knees and tried to find that distant point where sea met sky. Understanding would be the first, necessary step for them. And the next would be letting go of the past instead of allowing it cloud their future. Maybe they could take the first step, and begin with the second one right now.

"I think I understand," She said finally.

He hadn't moved since he'd spoken, but at hearing her she felt him go still next to her. "You do?" He whispered, sounding like he didn't believe her.

"Yeah," Mac nodded, and rallied her own courage. "It's how I felt with the ring Mic gave me."

She felt him turn to face her, but she was only brave enough to glance at him before revealing her own weakness.

"I, well, it seemed so wonderful, all he was offering me." She played with the sand by her feet as she spoke, finding it comforting. "But then, it didn't seem so great." She found a laugh. "It was actually scary. I wanted the ring, marriage, a family, but I didn't think I wanted it with him. After a while, thinking so much, I didn't know what I wanted. And as I spent more time wearing the ring, getting more and more confused, Mic got more and more invested in the relationship and I didn't know how to say no anymore. No one had really offered me what he had, and I didn't know who to talk to it about it, and I felt like I owed him. And I was..." Mac took a breath. This was the first time she'd be admitting this out loud. But she thought she owed it to Harm, after how he'd just opened up to her. "I was ashamed of myself. And it was a lot easier to go along with everything, a lot easier than fighting it, telling him no, admitting that I'd led him on for so long, that I messed up so badly." Mac took a deep breath. "So, yeah, I understand."

He slipped his hand around hers, then brought it to his lips for kiss. The touch sent sparks of light through her, from her palm right to her toes.

They sat quietly for a few minutes with her simply enjoying his touch. Mac wondered if they'd just end up watching the sunset from here, instead of his apartment. She found she didn't mind. This beat ice cream, hands down.

As if reading her thoughts, Harm suddenly stood up still holding her hand. "C'mon," He smiled down at her. "I think we both earned some ice cream after that."

Mac had to return his smile as he pulled her up. Instead of letting go, he tugged her closer and wrapped her in a strong embrace.

"This one's for me," He whispered in her ear. "I thought I'd lost you, and I wouldn't get another chance." He tightened his hold on her. "I promise, Mac, I will never let myself take you for granted."

She wound her arms around his waist and returned the hug. Those were the sweetest words she'd ever been given. And his honesty with her, which she knew had to be hard for him, was another treasured gift. She thought, maybe, it would all work out.

"We can still make the sunset, if you want to watch it from my balcony?"

Mac nodded against his chest. "Yeah. I really can't resist Phish Food."

He laughed as he released her from the hug. "C'mon," He took her hand in his, and held it as they walked back towards his apartment.

--

"This place is amazing, Harm!" Mac exclaimed, her eyes roaming his apartment in awe. It was an open concept loft, complete with two floors. The top floor - where, she guessed, the bedroom was - only covered part of the space, which gave his living room and kitchen extremely high ceilings. The den was almost a nook tucked under the bedroom. At least she assumed it was a den. Currently, it was unfinished. "How long have you been renovating it?"

"Since I moved," He replied as he busied himself in the kitchen.

She wondered how long ago that was...

"Eight months ago," He answered her unvoiced question. "Make yourself at home, Mac."

Eight months, Mac thought. She wondered why San Diego. Taking Harm up on his request to make herself at home, Mac toed off her shoes, dropped her purse on his couch, and led herself on a tour of his living room. This place had the same clean lines and minimalist male look of his previous apartment in DC. Except - she couldn't put her finger on it - there was something different here. This place was more ... mature. But then, any place without louvered glass cubes as a bedroom separator would seem more grown up. Mac smiled to herself. She had thought he was such a Casanova when she'd first met him.

Her musings were cut short when Mac reached the set of shelves Harm had built into the wall. They held an array of photos, spaced out between his books and model Stearman. She studied the photos. There were the familiar ones of him with his father and with Sergei with his grandmother, with his mother when he was younger; there were the unfamiliar ones of him with his mother more recently, of his mother and a man Mac assumed to be Frank; and then...Mac stopped and stared.

It was a photo of her and Harm in Afghanistan. She lifted the frame in her hands to get a better look at the photo. He hadn't had this on display, at least not that she'd known, back in DC. Mac quickly put the photo back when she heard Harm call her name.

"Mac," Harm said from the kitchen. "It'll probably be cool out by now. Can I lend you a sweater?"

She made her way over to him and leaned against the kitchen counter so she could watch him work. "I think I'll be alright."

"Get a sweater," He insisted, setting mugs out on the counter, putting sugar in hers. "Just in case. We will be eating ice cream."

Mac found herself smiling. She liked this side of him, always had. "Okay." She agreed. "Could I please borrow a sweater?"

His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. "Of course you can." The coffee maker hissed, announcing it was done. He glanced at it before turning back to her with an apologetic look, "Would you mind getting it while I get this together? The sun will be setting soon..."

"Not a problem," She pushed herself off the counter. "Should I bring you one as well?"

"I'll be fine," He replied, "The closet in my bedroom. Upstairs."

"Got it. Thanks." She made her way up the stairs and entered his room. She liked it, she decided. It seemed so very Harm that just being in the room made her smile. She opened his closet and pulled out two sweaters, one for her and one for him - in case. As Mac turned to leave the room, she eyed the two frames he had on his dresser. One was of the two of them. It wasn't a photo she'd seen before. She couldn't remember the context, where they were or what they were doing. It seemed like a picnic or some outdoor event. She'd guess the photo was taken last summer, before the Singer mess and Paraguay. They were dressed in civvies, sitting at a picnic table. The camera must've caught them in the middle of a conversation because although she was looking into the camera and smiling, he was looking at her with laughter in his eyes and that expression he wore when she won an argument against him. He looked happy. The other photo was just of her, laughing and looking at something off to the side. It looked like it had been taken from the same picnic.

"Mac?" Harm yelled from the kitchen beneath. "Did you get lost? Or should I start worrying about my valuables?"

She jumped about three feet in the air, startled by his calling her. She felt like she was invading his privacy.

"I'm just coming!" Mac replied quickly, and made her way back downstairs.

"You brought me a sweater?" He asked with a lopsided smile when she returned to the kitchen.

"In case," She teased distractedly, her mind still on the photos.

"What is it, Mac?" He took her hand in his.

She looked down at their joined hands. "The photos," She hesitated, "I, well..." She looked up at him. "Why?"

"I didn't forget you, Mac." He rubbed his thumb along her wrist. His hand was so warm and solid as it surrounded hers. "I couldn't. And I was done hiding, Sarah. I kept waiting for fate to bring us together."

Fate could be so fickle, she thought, distracted by his nearness, his touch. Such a terrible to stock to invest in; risky.

"But you know what I learned?" He whispered.

She shook her head.

"Sometimes you have to give fate a helping hand." She couldn't breathe around the intensity in his eyes.

"You do?" She whispered. This felt like far too much, far too soon. And yet, she couldn't help herself or the enjoyment she was finding in being this way with him.

"You do," He bridged the gap and leaned in to kiss her.

Mac found herself pulling back. It was almost instinctive, and that made her feel even worse than the emotions that flickered in Harm's eyes before he recovered. Hurt and surprise and guilt.

"I didn't mean-"

"No, I'm the-"

They tripped over their own and each others words.

"Mac," He said firmly, and she stopped trying to excuse and explain herself. "Wait." He brushed her bangs away from her face, let his fingers slide through her hair. "I overstepped the line. You said slow, and I should respect that."

"I just," She tried to explain something she didn't quite understand. She was starting to realize that she hadn't spent the last year trying to get over him. She'd spent it trying to find ways to protect herself from getting hurt again. "I'm not ready for this. I-"

"Hey," He pulled her into a hug, and this she willingly accepted. Was even grateful for it. "That's fine. We have all the time in the world."

"I'm sorry, Harm."

"Don't be sorry, Mac." He held her tighter. "Don't be." He laid a kiss in her hair. "Come on. Ice cream and coffee with a view of the sunset. I'd promised," He smiled down at her. "And I don't break those."

--


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and comments!

--  
_  
_**Fresh Start 6**

_That Monday..._

A knock sounded on Mac's office door. She scowled with impatience. All she needed in the middle of this insanely busy day was another interruption.

"Enter." She called curtly, head bent over the file in front of her.

"A package just arrived for you, Ma'am." Jen said, stepping into the office.

Mac looked up, her curiosity overcoming her irritation at the interruption. "A package?"

"It's from a bakery in La Jolla, Ma'am." Jen set a bright green box with a yellow ribbon on her desk.

"A bakery..." Mac trailed off at seeing the envelope taped to the box. Her name was written in a blocky script. She'd recognize that handwriting anywhere.

"Ma'am?"

Mac realized she was smiling. At the expectant look on Jen's face, Mac cleared her throat and put her poker face back on. Best to cut Jen's naturally 'healthy' curiosity at the bud. "That will be all, Coates."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jen straightened and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"A bakery." Mac repeated to herself. She slit open the envelope with her nail and removed the card to read it.

_Just the way you like it. H._

Mac grinned. Simple, to the point and very, very sweet. Not bothering to contain her excitement, Mac opened the box. Inside, nestled in paper, was a large chocolate cupcake with a pink sugar heart resting on top. And extra icing.

Mac laughed at the heart, feeling giddy. This was just perfect. If Harm was here, Mac would have kissed him. Just as well, she thought, that he was miles away.

With only a slight bit of guilt, Mac consulted her internal clock. Ten minutes of hedonism was acceptable, she told herself, given the delectable cupcake sitting in front of her. And she had worked hard this morning, had been very productive ... Mac hit the intercom button. "Jen, no calls, no interruptions for the next ten minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am," Came Jen's prompt reply.

Mac toed off her pumps, picked up the bakery box and settled herself comfortably on the plush couch in the corner of her office. She was going to enjoy this cupcake, and then she was going to call Harm to thank him.

--

_Ten minutes later, at an airfield miles away..._

Harm eyed his phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. The cupcake should have been delivered to Mac by now. He wondered if she liked it. Or was he pushing too hard? He'd berated himself enough since Saturday night for pushing things too far, too fast. He hadn't called her yesterday, and resisted the urge to pick up his cell and call her now. He didn't want her to feel pressured, it was the last thing he wanted.

God, he hated waiting.

His cellphone rang, causing him to jump. He fumbled to grab the phone.

"Rabb." He sounded more harried than he would've liked, and told himself to calm down a bit.

"Harm. Hi."

"Mac," He grinned widely. He liked hearing her voice over the phone. After seeing her again, he was realizing that he'd missed the most seemingly trivial things about her. How her voice sounded over the phone figured prominently on that list. "How's your day going?"

"Much better as of ten minutes ago."

He patted himself on the back, feeling a bit smug and very relieved. He'd done it right.

"I usually hate Mondays," She continued, "I'm always buried under paperwork, and everything seems to go wrong."

"Yeah?" He played along. "What's different about this particular Monday?"

"Nothing really." She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. "But it's surprising how a cupcake can change one's outlook."

He laughed. "I suspect it's the extra icing. All that sugar."

"Thank you, Harm." There was something in her voice, an inflection he hadn't heard from her before.

He stored this moment away for safekeeping. "Anytime, Mac."

"Are we still on for tomorrow?" She asked.

"Definitely. I'll bring dinner."

"Okay." She sounded pleased. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." He didn't want this call to end. Which, he thought, was rather adolescent of him. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Mac."

"I will, and it'll be thanks to you and the cupcake."

He was smiling long after he disconnected the line.

--  
_The next evening..._

Mac sighed as she shut the door behind her. She was tired. Today had been long day. She was very tempted to just put on pajamas, pop some popcorn, shut her brain off and watch an action movie. But she'd offered Harm Russian lessons ... or rather he'd asked to take them. Mac sometimes let herself indulge in the daydream that Harm was less interested in actually learning Russian, and more interested in spending time with her. But that was just a fanciful thought she wouldn't let herself take too seriously. After all he did have a brother whose native language was Russian and she couldn't impose on him by taking flying lessons and offering nothing in return. Especially since she was finding herself increasingly excited at the prospect of learning to fly. So she had taken the time to put together lesson plans. They would start with the basics and work their way up, depending on how adept Harm was at learning languages.

She wondered how long she had before Harm came over this evening for his lesson. Maybe enough time for a quick nap?

Her cellphone rang as soon as the thought of a nap formed. Must be Harm, she thought as she dug through her purse in search of her phone.

"MacKenzie." She answered, unbuttoning her jacket and removing her shoes.

"Hey, Mac."

"Harm." Mac smiled into the receiver. "I was just wondering when you were coming."

"Exactly the reason I'm calling, Marine. When works for you?"

"Anytime, really." Mac answered, "I'm home, so-"

Her doorbell rang. Mac frowned, opening the door. She wasn't expecting anyone except-

"Hey, Mac." Harm stood there, a bag in his hand and a huge smile on his face. "How about now?"

She laughed, moving aside to give him entry. "Come on in, Harm. Make yourself at home. I was just about to change."

Harm stepped in and as Mac shut the door behind him, he leaned in and gave Mac a kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you, Mac."

She blushed and then was flustered. He looked really good this evening. His cologne was different from the usual ... Mac fumbled the lock shut. "Um, you too." She replied, thrown off kilter by her sudden, overpowering awareness of him. She didn't know what to do now that she didn't really have a reason to fight this attraction. He made it clear he wanted her, and yet ... "I'll just, uh, change."

"I can help you with that," He offered, a twinkle in his eye.

She didn't even bother responding to that. Some things never changed.

"Alright fine," He said, and Mac could hear the laughter in his voice. "I'll be in the kitchen getting dinner together."

Mac made a quick escape to her room to regroup. They needed to take it slow and she needed to make sure they did. She also needed to remind herself why they needed to take things slow, because at this moment she couldn't quite remember her reasons.

--

_In the kitchen..._

Harm set the bag of take-out on the kitchen counter. He was really looking forward to this evening with Mac. Well, except for the bit where he would have to learn Russian. Not that he didn't want to learn. It would undoubtedly be useful and would please Sergei immensely. But he could think of much better ways to spend an evening with Mac than learning a language. As it was, he could do many things and most of them well, but he just plain sucked at learning languages. Spanish had been his worst subject in high school. He'd fumbled through it, mostly by cribbing notes off Alanna Cole - a passably cute girl who'd had a crush on him - and developing rather impressive skills at forging doctor's notes. Not that Mac needed to know any of that. Verb tenses and grammar and syntax ... He hated it. He also knew Mac well enough: she'd be a taskmaster of a teacher and would take this very seriously. He should have asked her to join him on morning runs rather than teach him Russian if she felt indebted to him for the flying lessons. Even though he loved flying and he loved her, so really what reason was there for her to feel indebted? The idea of Mac flying a plane, sitting in the cockpit, powerful machinery thrumming under her no doubt skillful hands, the stick responding to her slightest touch ... Harm shook his head to dispel the fantasy. How could Russian lessons even compare to that image?

"What's for dinner?" Mac asked, entering the kitchen. She'd changed into a deliciously tight pair of jeans and a light sweater.

He busied himself removing containers of food from the bag. Perhaps learning Russian might not be that painful with a teacher that good-looking. "Thai. I also brought you sticky rice with mango for dessert."

"Yum," She enthused, removing plates from her cupboards and chopsticks from her drawer. "Did you get me curry?"

"Of course I did, Mac." He removed a lid to show her, and then proceeded to scoop the curry onto her plate.

"Perfect! Thanks," She replied as she poured them each a glass of water. "I figure we could eat dinner and then get to work on the lesson. I made you some study sheets to take home."

Study sheets. Good lord, this master plan of his was turning out to be rather costly. "Homework, Mac?" He didn't mean to whine, really.

She laughed. "I bet you were the kind of kid who only learned on his own terms. Must've given your teachers a hard time."

"I was a very assiduous student," He protested, even though Mac had him pegged. "Punctual with my assignments and always following the rules."

She snorted her disbelief. "Sure."

"How was the rest of your day?" Best to change the subject now. It seemed he might just have to bite the bullet and learn Russian.

"It was great actually." She paused in her movements to look at him. "Thank you, Harm." After only a slight hesitation, she reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He grinned. "I'd buy you an entire cupcake factory for that kind of thanks."

"A cupcake factory?" She laughed, crinkling her nose at the absurdity of his declaration.

He wished he was allowed to kiss her.

"Probably an unsound investment," He spoke to distract himself from thoughts of kissing her. "You'd eat all the cupcakes before they were even boxed for shipping."

"And die of a sugar overdose."

"Not quite the blaze of glory against impossible odds that you're looking for," He commented, hopefully reminding her of a much better time in their relationship.

"Maybe my outlook has changed." She gave him a sidelong glance. He saw her trepidation, the one that had always presented itself before she revealed a part of her heart to him. "Sometimes we only think the odds are impossible." She smiled, and he decided he would learn every Slavic language ever spoken if it earned him just one of those smiles. And perhaps another kiss.

"You want to eat in the living room or the dining room?" She asked, pulling him from his admiration of her.

"Whichever," He shrugged, and immediately rethought his answer. "How about the living room? We could watch a movie."

"What about your Russian lessons?"

"We'll just watch the movie while we eat. Then you can start the lesson."

"Alright," Mac nodded. "How about an action movie?"

Action movies meant she'd had a long, mostly dull day. He'd wager she was tired. All he had to do was offer her a massage once she was done with dinner, and the Russian lesson would be all forgotten.

Just as Harm picked up their plates and headed towards the living room, Mac's doorbell rang.

"I'll get that," She said, heading towards the door. He watched her walk, and added that graceful step of hers to the list of things he'd missed this past year.

"Sarah MacKenzie?" A delivery man stood at the door, holding a rectangular box.

"Yes," Mac replied. Harm entered the living room and watched with barely concealed curiosity as the delivery man handed Mac the box.

"Could you sign here, please?"

Mac complied, and absently shut the door behind the man, more intent on reading the label on the box. She was frowning, her curiosity evident. He set their dinner on the coffee table and went back to the kitchen to fetch their glasses of water and cutlery, giving her time to open her package.

When he came back to the living room, he found that she hadn't moved from the entrance.

"What's in the box?" He finally gave voice to his curiosity. She didn't answer, didn't even seem to notice him. "Mac?"

No response.

He set their glasses on the table and walked over to her. She was staring at a wooden box held in her hands. He caught sight of a piece of paper lying on top of the discarded packaging she'd placed on the side table by the door. He shouldn't read it, he knew, probably none of his business. But he couldn't help himself.

_Sarah. I started working on this not long after that first Saturday we spent together in February, for your first surfing lesson. These are not the circumstances in which I wanted to offer you this, but I made this with only you in mind, so you should have it regardless. Consider it as a part of my apology for the way I behaved. You've told me you admire my honesty, but I think I suffer from the noted affliction of speaking before thinking, of reacting before processing, and then regretting my words and actions. I am truly sorry. Please, consider this also as a token of our friendship. Our relationship may not have gone in the direction I intended, but I will treasure the months I had with you._

_All the best, Sarah.  
Ethan.  
_  
Harm stared at the note and then at the box, a noxious mix of emotions welling in him. The wooden box she was holding had an elegant pattern carved on the lid. Her name was also carved in a flowing script. She slowly traced her name with a finger and then opened the lid. Soft strains of music floated through the air. He looked up at Mac, trying to get his bearings. He saw tears in her eyes as she looked down at the damn box in her hands.

Of the mess of emotions frothing in him, anger and frustration surged their way to the surface: she was slipping away from him, had been this past year, and because of what? Because she hadn't understood where he'd been coming from, because she'd insisted on kissing godamn Webb in Paraguay, telling him never and thinking that he didn't want her.

Harm turned away from her and that damned box. He took a long, slow, deep breath, trying to regain his control.

All he could think was that Ethan had taught her to surf, had made her a music box, and had somehow gotten her to be open and honest with him in ways Harm envied. How many regrets, he thought, could he crowd into a room before there was no room left for him? He could see in Mac's eyes that Ethan held a part of her heart, a part that Harm knew belonged to him, that would've belonged to him if he'd done things differently. She'd spent a year thinking he'd seen her as a burden while building what was obviously an important relationship with Ethan. All because he'd been too damn afraid, a coward, to find her. All because she'd left him behind, just like that after almost eight years together. Because he didn't pass some damn test of hers.

Mac's light sniffle caught his attention. She was wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. Forget anger, he was downright pissed off.

"Do you want me to go?" He ground out, his jaw clenched, his hurt hidden from her.

"What?!" She looked at him in confusion, startled out of whatever reverie that box had steeped her into.

Harm shook his head with impatience. "I can go. We can do this," He waved his hand over their dinner, now rapidly cooling on the coffee table, "Some other time."

She stared at him with that piercing stare of hers that always made him feel that he was being put on the spot and made him want to push back.

"Is that what you want?" She asked. Her challenge was crystal clear and there was something else...

"If you love him," He replied , "It doesn't really matter what I want."

Her entire demeanour hardened, her eyes narrowed. "That is not what you indicated on Thursday. I thought you were serious about this. You said you wanted this, wanted me." Her voice faltered near the end, but she pulled herself together so quickly, he could've imagined it. When she spoke again, her tone brooked no nonsense. "If you're going to let this-" She thrust the box out towards him, her voice rising, "Get between us before we even get started, then I'm glad I learned now what you understand by serious." She scoffed, not even looking at him, "I should've known you couldn't commit."

"And I should've known you would never trust me," He pointed a finger at her. "This is just like with Lowne and Brumby. You always get involved with assholes so you can't blame yourself when things fall apart."

Her eyes widened, and he almost regretted what he said - even if she needed to hear it - until her next words: "How dare you! You don't even know Ethan!"

"To hell with Ethan!" His anger was so overpowering, it blurred his vision. "I know that he's sending you this," He indicated her stupid music box with the all the contempt he possessed, "So that he can be sure you keep thinking about him, so he can take advantage of you and your heart!"

"Funny." She was lethally calm, her contempt matching his. "He said the same thing about you."

The gall of that jackass.

"I would never take advantage of you! What does Ethan know about me?" He threw back. If he ever saw Ethan again, he'd reward him richly for putting such ideas in Mac's head.

"Then what exactly is the difference between this," She waved the box in front of his face, "And sending a cupcake to my office after lunch?"

He stared at her, the floor slipping away from beneath his feet. Is that what she thought? That he was stringing her along? His contempt shifted from the music box to the woman in front of him. "You wouldn't understand," He shook his head at her. Her accusation cut him to the bone. So he pushed back. "You haven't even trusted a man enough to even know what love is. Did you ever think that you spent all those years telling yourself I didn't care for you, because that gave you an excuse to blame me?" He couldn't even look at her. He turned around and opened her door. "I don't even know why I'm bothering wasting my time on you."

And he left.

--


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

A/N: I wouldn't keep you in suspense for too long with a cliffhanger! Also, I am trying for daily updates now. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

--

**Fresh Start 7 **

_Harm's apartment..._

Harm slammed his apartment door shut behind him. He couldn't believe her. Getting all emotional over a wooden box! She'd told him she was willing to given them a try, and there she was getting weepy and misty-eyed over a gift from another man! Unbelievable. He scoffed. And then she acted like he was being unreasonable!

And he hadn't even had dinner. He was hungry. He headed to the kitchen, but made a detour to his answering machine when he saw the light blinking. That should be Mac apologizing. Not that she ever apologized. She just left him messages asking him to call back, asking him how he was, sounding sad ... He hadn't answered any of those messages she'd left him when he'd been working for the CIA. He was angry then, just as he was now. Although this time, he would call her back. Because if he didn't, she'd just pick up and run away to somewhere else. Probably Alaska this time.

Harm hit the play button on his answering machine.

_Harm,_

His mother's voice. Harm let the message play while he headed to the kitchen to scrounge up some dinner. Of course it wasn't Mac, idiot. She was probably still devising ways to dismember him, limb by limb. And then make him feel guilty for it.

_I know I said I wouldn't put my nose in your personal affairs when it came to a certain someone, but it's my right as your mother to do as I please. So, I thought it would be lovely if you invited Sarah to join us for breakfast this Sunday, before you two headed out for her flying lesson. I can call her on your behalf, if this sort of thing still makes you shy. It worked out rather well for getting her to the gallery opening, don't you think?_

Harm rolled his eyes at his mother's terrible sense of humour, even as he smiled at her eagerness. Until he remembered his still-warm argument with Mac. That made his smile disappear quickly. Instead of anger, however, he found regret. Probably due to hearing his mother's voice.

Talk about screwing things up. Harm wound his way back to the living room and dropped himself onto his couch. He slouched back, rubbing his temples. He'd done it again, fallen into that vicious cycle of anger and blame that had consumed him for months after Mac had left his apartment last year. Hell, left his life and moved to California. He'd thought he was over it, thought he had dealt with it when he'd moved here and built himself a life he could learn to like. But clearly he still resented her leaving.

He should talk to her.

Although, it would be better to let her simmer down a bit, and then talk to her tomorrow.

Or maybe the day after...

Harm sighed. Or instead of simmering down, she'd let it all fester and then think their issues were insurmountable. Or, worse yet, she'd rationalize away the whole incident and bury it where it would come back later to bite them both in the ass.

This was not what he had in mind when he'd hoped to get out of learning Russian.

The best option was to go talk to Mac tonight, right now. Harm stood up and walked out his door, intending to do just that.

--  
_Back at Mac's apartment...  
_  
Harm stood in front of Mac's door, eying it with trepidation. She was going to bite his head off. Or skin him. Maybe boil him. Debone him ... Whichever method she chose, this was going to be painful.

He knocked on the door. The sound echoed in her hallway with more confidence than he felt.

Patiently, he waited for her to either let him in or ignore him.

To both his surprise and relief, she opened the door. Albeit hesitantly.

Her nose was red and her eyes watery. When would he stop baiting her just to distract from his own wounds?

"I'm sorry, Mac." He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from them from wiping away her tears. The last thing she'd want was to be physically comforted by him.

She opened the door to let him in. He immediately took up her invitation, noting that she hadn't touched the food on the coffee table. His thoughts were interrupted when she turned to face him.

"You always say that I'm insecure," She said, her voice still trembling from all the crying she looked like she'd done. "That I pick assholes or push good men away, but you never talk about how you let your insecurities turn you into an asshole."

Well there was a word he'd never heard her use in relation to him. "Can we talk?" It seemed the safest thing to say at the moment.

She gave him a silent nod and led the way to her couch.

"I'm sorry, too," She said as they sat, while he was still trying to gather his words. "I didn't mean to diminish what you did. I really love cupcakes." Her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed and quickly wiped them away with her sleeve. His heart, already soft where she was concerned, softened even further. "But I don't understand why you got so angry." She searched his face, trying with her words and her expression to convince him. "It's just a gift. I mean, he put a lot of time and thought and emotion into it, but I have no control over his intent. You didn't send me a cupcake to manipulate me, and he didn't make that box to manipulate my feelings." She bravely looked him in the eye, "We had a pretty good thing going, I won't lie to you. And I can tell you that I do care for him, but Harm," She put her hand on his wrist, over his sleeve. "Not in the way I care for you. I thought that was clear enough, but I shouldn't have assumed."

He bit his cheek to keep his anger in check at hearing her talk about her relationship with the other man in such a soft tone.

"Harm?" She prodded warily.

He had to get over this. He took a cleansing breath and looked at her. "I'm trying not to be an ... 'asshole'," He quoted her, "About you and ... about it, but I'm going to need time."

She sighed. "I don't understand why you're so insecure about this. Don't you trust me?"

"I do," He said quickly, and then amended. "I did ... I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's been a year, Mac, and you had this whole life you were living. You and ... him, you said you had something good going and, fine, whatever, you can't control what he does, but that, that box from him still had you in tears. What exactly do you want from me?"

Again, her eyes filled. He'd never seen her cry so much. "I want to be able to take you at your word," She said, her tears falling down her cheeks. "And I want you to be able to take me at mine."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say to make her feel better. Taking her at her word was easier said than done, especially she hadn't exactly stated what her relationship with the other guy was. He'd gotten the sense from Ethan that they weren't really involved in any way beyond friendship, but Mac hadn't been forthcoming. And what did she mean by 'something good'?

"You want me to trust you, Harm, but you don't trust me."

"That's not - I-" He stopped, not knowing where to go.

"Since when are you so possessive? I agreed to giving this thing between us a chance, how could you think I'd want to pursue that kind of a relationship with Ethan at the same time?" She was downright exasperated. "How could you think that of me? I don't underst-" She stopped suddenly, looking as though she'd reached some momentous revelation. "You really are only this way with me, aren't you?"

He said nothing, didn't move for fear of revealing his hand.

"That's why you ignored me for five months, it's why you said those horrible things to Sturgis before the Jagathon ... You didn't hate me, you..." She trailed off, staring at him as though she was seeing him for the first time. And noticing that he had a weird growth on his chin.

It made him uncomfortable.

"I didn't know," She whispered, looking like she might break into a thousand pieces if he so much as breathed.

"How could you?" His tone matched hers. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I was good at hiding it. Better than I am now, in any case," He kidded, trying to take that terribly vulnerable expression off her face.

"I..." Again, the tears welled in her eyes.

Now, he berated himself, was not the time to joke around. "Mac..."

He still didn't know what to say. Or rather, he was having a hard time telling her how difficult her leaving had been on him. He hadn't thought, until she just told him, that he would ever be unable to trust her with any matter. But she was right. He did do things on his own terms, including this. He'd trust her to keep him alive halfway across the world, but he wouldn't trust her when she told him that she wanted him. He didn't trust her when she told him that she would choose him over any of them. Over Ethan, over Webb, over Mic. Hell, even over Lowne. He'd seen it in her eyes, in her words, but he just hadn't trusted it. He hadn't listened to her, really listened. He'd been too caught up in himself. The least he could do, he thought, was talk to her. He could explain why he'd reacted as he had to Ethan's gift.

"Thing is, Mac, I ... I wasn't in a very good place after you left me." He hesitated, cleared his throat, was fundamentally uncomfortable with revealing so much about himself to anyone. Especially such terrible stuff. He forged ahead. "Like I told you, anger was convenient. And mostly, it was aimed at you. I found all kinds of reasons to blame you, all the ways you were at fault for how wrong everything went. You left me, you didn't stick around just because things got a bit hard." One look at the expression on her face had him grabbing her hand. "I'm not saying this to hurt you," He rushed out, "I'm not. I'm trying to be honest with you."

"I know you are," She said. The tears in her eyes fell down her cheeks. "It's just, I really thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was doing you a favour by leaving."

"No," He shook his head, blinking away the sting behind his eyes. "Never."

"It was the only way I could bear my own company. I thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

"How could I want the best thing in my life to leave me?" He pointed out what he'd thought was obvious and she'd apparently thought was a pipe dream. "When I saw that box from Ethan, I got upset and everything I'd locked up or thought I'd dealt with about your leaving, it all just came back and it was the easiest way to hurt you back. I'm sorry." He paused, feeling terribly guilty. "You were right, I am an asshole."

"You're not," She defended immediately, even though she was busy wiping away more tears. "You're not, I shouldn't have said that to you."

"But it's the truth. I was an ass to you after Paraguay, ignoring you because I knew it would make you miserable and I was angry enough that it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Is that why you came back tonight?" She asked, connecting the dots. For the first time since he'd come back to her place, he heard her hope.

He nodded. "I was upset, Mac, and it still hurts that you have no faith in my commitment to you, to us."

"And you still resent me for leaving." She replied.

They gave each other a long, assessing look. Now what, he thought. How could they move forward from here? Where did they go from here?

"I'm not going anywhere, Harm," She finally said, the first to speak. He'd always thought she was braver than he in this matter. "I'm willing to work through this if you are."

"I am," He responded. "I'm not going anywhere, Sarah, unless it's with you." It took such effort on his part to keep from wiping away the tears on her face. He settled for holding her hand in both of his. "I'm right here."

"I think we need to re-learn how to trust each other."

He nodded. "Yeah." An idea came to him, and he was inspired. Maybe he could take the first step here. "I can start by being honest with you."

She frowned, "But, all this," She waved a hand between them, "All we talked about..."

"This is different."

She looked quite worried, perhaps even a little afraid.

"The truth is, Mac," He took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't be upset with him. "I hate learning languages. I'm terrible at it. The only reason I didn't fail Spanish in high school is because the smartest girl in the class had a crush on me," He judiciously left out the bits about forging doctor's notes.

Her eyebrows hit her hairline.

"The only reason I asked you to teach me Russian is so that I could spend more time with you." There, he'd said it. Hopefully she'd find it funny.

"Harm!" She did indeed, thankfully, break into laughter. "You had me worried!" And then, her laugh softened into a self-conscious smile. "You were going to learn an entire language just to spend a few hours with me?"

He nodded, smiling himself at how silly that sounded.

She cocked her head to the side. "I'd hoped that was the reason," She said quietly, eyes sparkling with happiness. "But I couldn't bring myself to believe it."

For the second time this evening, he wished he was allowed to kiss her.

"Would you be willing to go running in the morning with me, instead of the Russian lessons?"

"I'd love to," She replied, but he caught her hesitation.

"What is it?"

"Do you really want to teach me to fly, or is that another-"

"No!" He said quickly. "I definitely want to teach you that, Mac."

She studied him for a moment, and seemed convinced. "Okay."

He smiled with relief. This Sunday he'd get to see Mac in the cockpit ... He remembered his mother's invitation. "About this Sunday: I have this standing tradition where I have brunch on Sunday mornings with Mom and Frank."

"We can go to the airfield in the afternoon, Harm. Or reschedule." She didn't hesitate to offer, "It's not a problem in the least."

"Actually," He jumped in before Mac got ahead of them both. "Mom would like to invite you to join us for brunch this Sunday." He realized how that sounded after he said it. "I mean, I'd like for you to come too, Mac," He added to smoothen the invitation. "If you want to, that is. Don't get me wrong, Mom's all ready to call you and invite you on her own," He laughed nervously, not sure why he was feeling nervous, "She thinks I want an excuse like with the gallery opening..." And so much for smooth. He sighed, looking down at his hands. He tried again, this time with the simple approach: "Would you like to join us for breakfast this Sunday, Mac?"

He looked up to find her grinning away.

"I definitely missed this part of you!" She laughed.

He joined her, although still embarrassed by his gauche delivery. "Hey, it's not that funny."

She was smiling fondly at him.

"What can I say, Mac?" He turned on the charm. "You tie me up in knots."

He thought, for a moment, that she was going to kiss him. He crossed his fingers, but she quickly looked away from him and to the now congealed food on the coffee table.

"We should re-heat our dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," He replied, skilfully masking his disappointment at a missed opportunity.

"I'll put this in the microwave," She said, standing up.

"I'll pick a movie," He offered, watching her as she walked away.

She was halfway to the kitchen when she turned back to face him. "Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for coming back," She said softly, wearing a shyness that was foreign to her, captivating him.

"Thank you for opening the door," He grinned.

Her smile transformed into a thing of beauty. "My door is always open for you."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Don't own'em.

--

_The next morning..._

Mac emerged from her bedroom with a spring in her step. She was all ready for her run with Harm. It would be their first run together in over a year. She was very excited. Added to that was her giddiness from last night. She still couldn't quite get over the fact that he'd come back. She'd half thought, when he left her apartment slamming the door shut behind him, that she wouldn't ever see him again. She'd have to call his place and leave messages on his answering machine which he wouldn't return and it would be terrible, awful, unbearable. But he'd come back! Mac grinned.

Just as she walked by her living room, Mac saw the wooden music box Ethan had made for her lying on the side table, just where she'd left it last night. Her smile was quick to fade.

What would she do about that? She didn't know what to do. Mac approached the side table and traced the carving on the box with her finger. It really was a beautiful music box, and all the work Ethan put into this was clear even to an untrained eye such as hers. No one had made her something this beautiful before ... Could she even put it on display? Somewhere in the living room, or even on her dresser so she could actually use it to store jewellry?

Harm would hate it if she did. He would jump to all kinds of conclusions and not understand what this box meant to her, how important a friend Ethan had been to her in the past year. But she knew that Harm's happiness and his trust in her was more important than the sentiment in this music box. Maybe this would be her way of showing him how committed she was to them. At least, that was hopefully how Harm would see it.

For her part, Mac hated that she had to choose between one's friendship and another's love like this. But it was patently unreasonable to expect that she could have both. Wishful thinking on her part.

With a sigh, Mac picked up the box and placed it back in the packaging it had been delivered in. She carried it all to her bedroom and slid it under her bed. Out of sight.

Even though the box was hidden, she knew she would have to thank Ethan. It wouldn't be fair of her not to, would be cruel. She felt as though she was seeing for the first time the extent, the depth of Ethan's feelings for her. She couldn't let this gift remain unacknowledged, even if she had to abandon his friendship in order to have Harm.

She would have to talk to Harm about it, she resolved, given his reaction to the gift. She'd let him know that she needed to thank Ethan. Mac really hoped she and Harm figured out this mutual trust thing soon. She'd always hated it in her past relationships when whoever she was involved with got possessive. It reminded her too much of her own father, how he'd wanted to control the women in his life. And, to be perfectly honest, she deeply disliked possessive Harm. The idea of having to clear her actions with him, with any man she was involved with irked her. But if this is what it took to build the trust between them, then she would learn to live with this side of him. She would try to understand why he was this way, even though she didn't think he had any reason to be. Maybe, ultimately, this was what it took to be with someone. Maybe all her other relationships had failed because she hadn't been willing to make this one sacrifice, but now with Harm she was.

--

_An hour later, on the jogging trail, winding along the shore_

Mac screwed up her courage. This morning had been progressing so wonderfully well. It was so great to run with him again, the beat of their soles against the asphalt, his breathing right next to her, the camaraderie, the ease ... And she was about to mess all that up. But this was a necessary topic of discussion, and an important part of developing trust between the two of them. She was going to communicate openly and fully with the man next to her, and hope he would do the same. No hiding. Unless it was really necessary ... she deserved at least a little allowance for extenuating circumstances, for self-preservation, right?

"Harm."

He glanced at her, smiling with an uncomplicated happiness. "Yeah?"

Oh boy, here goes. "I want to tell you - no, ask you something. But you have to promise to hear me out and not get angry, and then you can say whatever you want and I'll listen and we can discuss this, okay?" She said it all in one giant breath, which then required her to recalibrate her breathing or face collapsing on the jogging trail.

His expression shuttered, and her heart hurt just a little at seeing him pull up the draw bridge and arm the sentries.

"Okay," He said, looking straight ahead as he jogged. The sturdiness of his curt reply complimented the worry in his eyes.

"I feel I should thank Ethan for the box. It's the least I-" She stopped suddenly when he came to an abrupt halt in his jog. Mac had to double back to return to his side. He had his hands on his hips and was staring off towards the ocean. She had hoped that running would make this talk easier because he'd be too busy regulating his breathing to expend much energy in anger. But, of course, he had to stop running and focus completely on her.

She waited for him to collect his thoughts, to say something.

43 seconds of eternity passed, and still silence. And still she waited.

"Do what you need to," He finally said. He didn't even look at her when he said it.

"I need to make sure you're okay with this," She insisted.

"You are asking for the impossible."

"I just want to thank him. I get that I'm not allowed to speak with him, ever again." She put in a lot of effort at not revealing just how unreasonable she thought he was being.

He ground his teeth. "That is not what I said."

"What are you saying?" She nudged, trying to get him to talk to her.

"Dammit, Mac." His own exasperation, his inclination to change the subject was evident.

"Harm," She took a step towards him, but stopped at the wariness in his eyes as he watched her. How could she just ignore Ethan? How could she dismiss what he'd been to her because Harm was back, because he didn't like it that she was friends with another man. "It would just be a conversation, Harm. Closure for him, for me."

"Like you and I had, Mac," He sneered in a measured tone, "On the Admiral's porch at your engagement party?"

She took three long, deep, calming breaths and told herself not to take the bait. "You might think I should feel flattered that you act this way with me, Harm, but I don't. I don't like it when you get all possessive. I feel..." She wrung her hands, trying to put inchoate sentiment into words, a thought floating just beyond her reach. "I feel caught. Claustrophobic. You'd hate it if I did this with you," She pointed out.

"Maybe." He allowed, "But I would do what you wanted me to." He sounded so absolutely sure of his own words. "I wouldn't be friends with a woman if you didn't want me to be."

Mac wasn't as convinced. She studied him for a moment. Was that really what he'd do? They were both independent, strong-willed people. They both wanted to come out on top. Would he really stand it if she started telling him whom he could and could not be friends with, whom he could and could not speak to? She didn't buy it, not for a minute. He just didn't want her to talk to Ethan because ... because ... why exactly?

Because he really didn't trust her, to such an extent that maybe this wasn't even about her.

And that's when the thought that had been floating just out of her reach, just on the edge of her field of vision coalesced into something solid, graspable. It was another revelation. Two such revelations in two days. She was on a serious role when it came to understanding this man. Maybe their time apart had done them good.

"You still can't let go, can you?" She searched his eyes and saw only confusion. "Of that control of yours," She elaborated, "That's what this is about. I never understood what it meant, this, this," She paced, gathering the thoughts which were suddenly, furiously frothing. She was onto something, they were getting somewhere. "This control you cling to so tightly. You don't want to trust me because that would mean being vulnerable, it would mean opening yourself up, letting someone in!" She snorted in disgust at herself. All these years not understanding the infuriatingly opaque man standing in front of her, and all of a sudden it was like an avalanche of insight pounding into her. "And you say I don't know how to love. That's the whole point of it," She was talking more to herself than to him, but that didn't stop her from getting upset at the direction her thoughts were taking. "You can't love someone if you can't trust them. And you can't trust anyone because you have to be in control all the goddamn time. So you can't trust me. You're convinced I'll hurt you!"

"Can you blame me!" His words erupted with volcanic force.

She whirled around to look at him, taken aback at the strength of his accusation. That was not the reaction she'd expected from him, nor had she been looking to antagonize him. She'd mostly been thinking out loud, forgetting even that he was there.

"You," He pointed his finger at her, "Left me!"

"You kept pushing me away!" She threw back instantly, almost instinctively.

"And there you go blaming me again." He stated, arms crossed self-righteously over his chest.

She mirrored his stance, about to react in kind when the little part of her that had managed to remain detached noted that she was again about to take Harm's bait. Warning bells went off: she needed to stop reacting like this whenever he pushed her buttons. She took three long, deep, calming breaths. Those two weeks of yoga class she'd let Harriet drag her to suddenly didn't seem like a colossal waste of time.

"You're being an asshole again." She stated as calmly as she could.

His eyes widened for a moment as he mentally did a double take. And then, much to her surprise, he started laughing. "Is that going to be your way of telling me to power down from now on?"

She breathed a sigh of relief that their fight had tapered off without causing too much damage. "For as long as it works."

He shook his head, chuckling. His anger was replaced with affection. She much preferred it when he looked at her in this way.

"Let's continue on our run, shall we?" She asked. It was enough heavy talk for one morning. She doubted they'd avoid a no holds-barred cage-fight if they pursued this now.

"Right beside you, Jarhead." He said, beginning to jog with her, matching her pace. She thought he looked relieved.

--

_Thirty minutes later..._

They'd jogged in silence for the last thirty minutes. At first, Harm had focused his thoughts on just how much he enjoyed spending time with her. The comfort of her steps in cadence with his, her controlled breathing. The spark of anticipation, like striking a match, when she glanced at him and smiled. The tingle of warmth at hearing her voice. Things he had taken for granted, or had failed to notice suddenly seemed to glow brightly in the everyday humdrum. He reveled in it all. Strange thought to have, but there it was: he genuinely just enjoyed her company. Even if spending so much time together meant uncovering all these angry, puss-filled wounds in their relationship.

Which had led his thoughts right back to her words, and there he was still, running in circles.

_You can't love someone if you don't trust them. And you can't trust anyone because you have to be in control all the goddamn time._

But that was absurd. He loved her. He knew he did. He felt it with a bone-deep conviction, right down to his marrow.

_...you have to be in control all the goddamn time._

But he was trying to be honest with her, open with her. She wasn't getting it. Did she really think he just eviscerated himself and spilled his guts out to anyone who happened to be around? Did she understand what it had taken for him to face her? To tell her what he felt?

_I get that I'm not allowed to speak with him, ever again_

And what exactly did she mean by that? It wasn't as though he could make her stop doing something she wanted to do. When had that ever worked in the past? And yet ... she'd sounded as though she was resigned to it. She'd asked him about it, anticipating his response and apparently had even readied herself to accept it. Harm frowned. That was hardly like Mac.

_I don't like it when you get all possessive._

Harm's frown deepened. A rather uncomfortable thought dawned on him. Was she trying to appease him? Is that why she wanted closure with Ethan, not to close off some more-than-platonic connection with him, but because she thought that was what it would take to earn his trust? Suddenly, he felt like a heel. He was behaving with Mac in exactly the way he'd silently berated Mic for doing. Of course she would hate it if he got possessive; she'd hated that about Lowne, she'd hated it about Mic.

And Ethan. God, he knew what Ethan was going through. He'd craved those last moments with Mac, when she'd been all set to marry Mic. He'd been resigned to it, to losing her. But that hadn't stopped him from wanting to talk it all out with her, rehash their past and mourn the loss of a future. As for the kiss they'd shared that night ... Harm let out a deep breath. If she was showing her commitment to him through her willingness to do something so contrary to her own nature, then he could show her that he did trust her. He would make himself show her.

Harm stopped jogging. He needed to concentrate on what he was saying, and he couldn't do that while running. It took Mac a few moments to register that he wasn't next to her. She stopped and doubled back, confusion etched on her features.

"Are you okay?" She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder in concern when she neared him.

"You should go thank Ethan," He said the first part quickly, and then faltered a bit on the next part: "In person, to thank him." He stared at the ground and rubbed a hand behind his neck.

"What?" She whispered, clearly shocked.

"He was - is - important to you, and that box meant a lot to him," He took another deep breath, thinking this here was more of a workout on his lungs than their run. "And Mac, I won't tell you whom you can and cannot be friends with. I won't be that guy."

"Harm..." Her eyes, he thought, he could see her faith in him in those brown eyes of hers, her soft affection. It loosened the tightly wound vices around his heart.

"I like you when you're like this," She told him. And then she did the most unexpected thing: she stood up on her toes and kissed him. On the lips. He was so taken aback, he didn't have the time to respond. Instead, he stood there like a lump while she ended the kiss and wound her arms around him in a hug.

A cupcake earned him a kiss on the cheek. Ripping out his heart and handing it to her on a platter, raw and bleeding, to do what she would with it, that earned him a kiss square on the lips. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, and wondered if it was worth the trade-off.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Don't own'em

--

_The next Saturday, in Mac's car_

Mac parked her car just outside Ethan's place. She was going to meet him, and then head back to her place where Harm would be picking her up for brunch with his parents. Currently, Harm was already at his parents' house, helping his mother prepare the meal. That, apparently, was another part of their weekly tradition. She thought it very cute and endearing. It must be nice, she thought, to have someone to share that with.

Remembering her original mission, Mac looked out her window, towards Ethan's house. This is it, she thought. Harm was still insecure about her relationship with Ethan, so she thought it best to keep some distance until things settled a bit. Especially since she'd gone to Ethan this past year to get the kind of support she used to find in Harm. It likely wouldn't help to have such a tempting outlet when the next few months with Harm promised to be accompanied by many bumps in the road, nor would it be fair to Ethan. She thought of Harm for a moment, his suggestion that she come here warmed her through and through. She hadn't been kidding: she really did like him when he put his faith in her. He always seemed most attractive, most appealing to her when he did.

Enough of that, she told herself. She exited her car, walked up the steps to Ethan's front door and rang the bell. 13 seconds later he answered.

"Sarah," His face was a mask of surprise. Pleasant surprise. "Come in," He said opening the door widely. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink? To eat?" He was rambling, which was very unlike him.

She took a moment to just look at him. His welcoming grey eyes, the way the light reflected off his hair. The crow's feet around his eyes that gave him a smiling countenance even when he wasn't smiling. She could not deny that it felt good to see him again after what seemed like ages. "You're looking good," She said.

He studied her just as intently. "So are you," He finally allowed. It was a big admission on his part, a bittersweet brew he offered her. She watched as the last dash of hope he'd held out faded. "Really good."

Mac shifted slightly on her feet, trying to shift his attention elsewhere. "The music box-"

He put up a hand. "You don't need to," He said quickly, smiling ruefully. "Some gifts are given with nothing expected in return."

"And that," She smiled at him, "Is what makes it the most beautiful gift I've been offered." She'd told herself she wouldn't cry.

He nodded, wistful, "Then it was worth every minute."

All the regrets, the could-have-beens and the almosts gathered around them in a fine mist.

She put her arms out, one more goodbye, one last one.

He gratefully accepted, stepping into her embrace and offering a tight one in return. "Thank you, Sarah."

She nodded into his shoulder, her throat too clogged to speak. He pulled back, his arms loosely around her waist. Slowly, Mac looked up at him. She was met with the same expression he'd worn right before he'd kissed her the last time.

This, she thought, was dangerous territory. Mac extricated herself from his embrace, trying to put some distance between them, and meeting a bit of resistance as she did.

"I should go," She told him, her voice trembling at the intimacy of his touch, the awkwardness she felt.

He let her go.

"Goodbye." His voice was low, his eyes shadowed.

"Goodbye, Ethan," She replied, stepping away from him. She turned around, a hand on the doorknob, ready to leave.

"Sarah."

She looked back.

"If at some point down the line, if you think we can be friends - maybe if," The corner of his lip lifted in a slight, regretful smile, "Maybe if I get over you, and you and him are on more solid ground - maybe you could look me up."

She nodded, relieved. She hadn't anticipated the offer, hadn't even thought of the possibility, but the idea of it filled her with a strange, wonderfully unexpected hope that it would all work out somehow, that they'd all reach that point.

"Bet on it, Handyman." She told him, purposefully making it sound more like a warning than a promise.

He smiled, his eyes alight with laughter. And that was the image she was left with, the last snapshot as she walked out his door.

--

_At the same time, at the Burnett home_

Harm set the washed tomatoes on the chopping board in front of him. He removed a knife from the drawer beside him, almost dropping it in the process. He picked up a tomato to chop, and somehow caused the others to fall to the ground.

"Harm!" His mother exclaimed, exasperated. "What has you so jumpy? You cannot possibly be this nervous over Mac joining us for brunch!" She sounded more annoyed than anything.

"It's not that," He replied, picking up the tomatoes.

"Then what is it?"

He sighed. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Checked his cellphone for a missed call. He realized his mother was waiting for an answer. "It's nothing," He said lamely.

"That is not nothing," She put one hand on her hip, and waved a whisk at him with the other. "That is most definitely something."

Harm said nothing.

"Harmon Rabb Jr." She stated, and he knew he was in trouble

"Mom..."

She just kept waiting. Harm gave in. There was no point arguing when she got like this.

"Mac went over to Ethan's this morning," He finally admitted.

His mom looked confused. "I don't understand. That is what's making you so nervous? They're friends, aren't they?"

Harm huffed impatiently. She was missing the point.

"What is it, Harm?" Her tone softened.

He applied himself to cutting tomatoes.

"Harmon, are you jealous?" She was teasing him.

"Drop it, Mom."

He felt her go still, and he kicked himself for using that tone with her.

"Sorry," He said quickly, before she could tell him off, "That was uncalled for."

She studied him, frowning. "Why are you all out of sorts over Sarah spending time with a friend? Please tell me you didn't tell her you don't approve."

"I didn't," He defended, sort of truthfully.

"You don't expect her to chain herself to you and you alone, do you?"

Harm focused on the tomatoes in front of him, because the alternative would be glaring at his mother.

"Do you think she'll..." His mother hesitated, "With Ethan..."

"No!" Harm quickly defended Mac. "She'd never do that. She's one of the most honest, good people I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

He didn't respond, and she finally went back to work. They continued to cook in silence.

"I know what it is," She suddenly said. "You feel insecure because you haven't seen her in over a year. You think she's replaced you with Ethan."

Harm chopped the tomatoes with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.

"You wouldn't understand," He settled for saying, trying to find an exit from this conversation.

"Try me."

"I'd rather not."

"Well, clearly not talking isn't doing you much good." She waited for him to say anything, but he refused to oblige her. "Have you talked to Sarah about this?" She pursued the matter.

"I don't want her to think I'm trying to control her."

"You have to be open and honest in any relationship, Harm. Communication is important." Trish paused before continuing. "Have you talked to her about this?"

"I just don't know what's going on, what went on between her and Ethan."

His mother was silent for a few moments. "He means a lot to her, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. He does."

"I think," She said with conviction, "That you mean more."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Harm, did you see the look on her face when you walked into the gallery that first time?" Trish shook her head. "It looked like you'd broken her heart."

What? Harm glared at his mother, his anger rising. She was taking her side on this?! "I broke her heart?" He said, his voice too loud. "She's the one who walked out on me! She left, picked up and moved here and that was it."

Trish frowned, taken aback by her son's outburst. "She ignored your attempts to contact her?" She said, building up some anger of her own towards Mac.

Harm deflated. "No, Mom," He said, resigned, "Wait. Don't be angry with her. I'm the one who didn't try to contact her."

Trish's confusion increased exponentially. "Then why on earth have you been acting like a wounded puppy this last year?"

"Could I have some sympathy?" He asked incredulously, not exactly appreciating his mother's bluntness at the moment.

"Give me the whole story first, and then I'll decide if you deserve it."

Another woman who had no faith in him. "You think this was my fault?"

"Right now, Harm, I don't know what to think. All I know is based on your treatment of other women you've been involved with, and from that I know they were never the highest priority in your life. I also know you were never jealous where they were concerned."

She sounded just like Mac. Harm looked at his mother, wondering whether he wanted to talk to her about this.

What the hell, he finally decided. Bring out the ceremonial knife and let the second evisceration begin.

"I resigned from the Navy because Mac went missing on a mission, and I was ordered not to go find her."

"Harm," His mother whispered, no doubt drawing the parallel between this and his decades-long obsession with finding his father.

"She'd been on a mission with..." Well, he could hardly say a CIA agent. "With a man who has a reputation for screwing up missions. I can't go into details, but things went horribly wrong and I barely recognized her when I found her."

His mother nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Of course, I can see that now. At the time I was just angry with her for accepting the mission, for defending the operative she was with and becoming so close to him because of the intensity of the stupid mission, I was angry at her for being so damn difficult all the time. And then I came back to DC with her, and thought maybe the admiral would take me back, and I'd still have my job. At least I'd have that. But he didn't take me back. That just pissed me off more. Mac tried to, uh, call me. Left messages. I was too angry to respond. Five months later, she comes to my apartment and tells me she'd accepted a post in San Diego and was leaving. She made it sound like I wanted to get rid of her," He still couldn't believe she'd thought that. For the umpteenth time, he defended his behaviour, tried to explain it, "But I was just angry and needed time to cool down. She thought..." He trailed off, stared at the ground. "She thought these terrible things about me, that I didn't care for her..." He passed his hand over his face, rubbed his eyes. "It hurt. And it made me even more angry. But mostly it just hurt, and I couldn't bring myself to find her, to talk to her and sort things out." Harm took a deep breath. "So there it is, the entire sordid story."

"Oh, Harm," His mother came up to him and wrapped him in a hug.

"Mom," He protested feebly, "I'm fine." He wasn't some six-year old that needed his mother to hug his aches away.

"I know," She said, sounding teary. "This is for me. I had no idea ... I'm sorry. I should've pushed you to talk about this sooner."

He laughed, returning her hug. "As though I would've let you."

"I think," She said, pulling away slightly but still keeping her hands on his waist, "You already have it figured out, you're just having a hard time following through."

He cocked his head to the side in question.

"You said you realize now that she went through some difficult periods on that mission," His mom elaborated, "And you didn't recognize her when you found her. I'd guess you haven't told her that. You also said you don't want her to think you're trying to control her, but you can't bring yourself to ask her what her relationship with Ethan is because you aren't sure you want to hear the answer. And yet the not knowing is eating away at you. You were also very hurt by her leaving, but you dealt with that by transforming it into an anger you still haven't resolved. And it sounds to me like she's hurting, too. It would take a lot to make a person pack up their life and move to the other side of the country, wouldn't it? Added to that, your not contacting her probably reinforced her impression of your disinterest in her."

"We talked about that," He chimed in, finally finding a point he could address. "About not being in contact with each other."

"And?"

"I explained it to her. She said she understood." He said, with just a bit of vindication. They'd cleared the air on that-

"Understanding and accepting are two different things," She pointed out.

Harm sighed. So much for that. "This is such a mess."

"You know," His mom began slowly, "Frank and I almost separated once."

"What?" He stared at her. This was the first he was hearing of it.

"The summer you ran away to find your father," She continued, "He thought I was being unreasonable in my reaction to your running off. I blamed him for you leaving. Years of festering resentment just bubbled to the surface. He didn't like your father's unresolved MIA status, couldn't be sure of his place if your dad would be found, of what I would do. I was always torn by your resentment towards him, it broke my heart just to see how angry you were."

"What happened?"

"For the first time in a long time we started talking. About everything. We'd talked before, yes, but not about all the terrible stuff we'd previously kept to ourselves for fear of hurting the other. It was the best thing we ever did. And also incredibly difficult. A lot of fighting and anger. We spent a few nights in separate beds. A couple under separate roofs."

"I didn't know."

"We didn't want you to. You had enough going on."

"I'm sorry." He really had no idea all this had been going on. He'd pretty much ignored Frank during those years.

"Not your fault," She shook her head. "Not in the least. The point is that we figured it out. We like to pretend relationships are these easy things and as long as you honour and cherish each other all will be fine, but the truth is it takes a lot more than that. It's a lot of hard work. And you can't bury the bad parts just because you think it will hurt the other person. Because the bad stuff just collects, waiting for the next fight or argument and comes spewing out. Then you end up having the same arguments over and over."

He nodded, processing this revelation about his mother and Frank. And recognizing that this was pretty much what he and Mac had been doing: having the same fights over and over again.

"You need to talk to Sarah, and keep talking to her no matter how terrible it gets. Be honest with her about what you're feeling, even if it hurts."

Harm nodded again. It was what he knew he needed to do, what he'd tried to do. But he'd only been honest with her to the point where it hurt her; he'd stopped at being honest when it could hurt him.

"And be vocal about the good things, too."

And that, he thought, was a novel idea.

"Speaking of Sarah," His mother glanced at the clock, "Isn't it time you left to pick her up? I'll just finish up the bruschetta, and the eggs will be done by the time you two get back."

"Okay." Harm hugged his mother again. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're very welcome, honey."

--

_A short while later, in Harm's care_

Mac watched the passing scenery as Harm navigated the roads to his parents' house. He hadn't been very talkative when he'd come to collect her, and she didn't know where to start. Or if he even wanted to hear about it.

"So," He finally spoke. She waited, but he said nothing more. As much an invitation as any, she supposed.

"I won't be seeing him again, if that's what you're asking." She told him, "We both agree it wouldn't be good, not for you and me, and not for him."

He loosened with relief next to her, and Mac tried not to feel angry about it. She knew she was still a bit upset and sad about the meeting with Ethan, and it would do no good to take that out on Harm. It had, after all, been her decision. So she kept her silence.

"Mac," He said, glancing at her with a healthy degree of trepidation. "I guess I don't know what exactly the nature of your relationship with Ethan was, and I can't help but think that you replaced me with him." He gave a dry, humourless laugh, "I'd hate to think I was an expendable part of your life."

The worst part, Mac thought, was that this was sort of true. She had found in Ethan something she'd missed from the better days of her friendship with Harm.

"We were friends, Harm," She began, watching his reaction to her words, and then deciding she'd rather not see what he thought of this. So she looked out the window. "Not more than friends, but good friends. He was a good friend at a time when I desperately needed one." She took a breath, toyed with the hem of her shirt just to keep her hands busy. "I hadn't really ever felt alone before in my life. Lonely, sure. I'd felt that often enough, but never alone. I don't know, maybe I'd never let myself feel alone because it would be too much of an admission of weakness, of dependency on others." Mac cleared her throat, shifted in her seat. "But even I couldn't deny that I'd come to depend on you for a lot of things during our years together. Losing that was a huge blow." She restlessly swept her hair away from her face, tried to ease the ache in her heart at remembering that terrible time. "Ethan was comfortable. He was fun, and I could let my hair down and not worry about how screwed up everything was. I needed that. And then, I found I could talk to him without all of that extra baggage that ended up weighing down a huge amount of the conversations you and I had after the Jagathon. Maybe it was just me, but I felt that there was always some double meaning when I talked to you, and it was such a relief not to have to deal with that anymore. I won't lie, I was trying to work up the, the ... I don't know what, exactly, work up something to move beyond just friendship with Ethan. But nothing happened. A part of me kept resisting. And then you came back, and I figured out the part of me that was resisting was the part of me that..." She hesitated, wondered if this was the time, how he would take it... "The part of me that loved you."

She held her breath and closed her eyes, trying to process how it felt to say that out loud. It felt awful. That was how it felt. She felt naked. The last little bit of her that would protect her from getting hurt by Harm was being surrendered. This had better build them some serious capital in the mutual trust department, because this was the most she'd ever exposed herself to any man.

It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't saying anything. She looked over at him and his expression was unlike anything she'd seen from him. He looked ... overwhelmed.

"Harm?" She was afraid to break the silence, fearing he'd somehow break along with it.

"This, just..." He trailed off, and then suddenly pulled over. He put the car in park and simply sat there, hands on the steering wheel looking off into space.

She didn't really know what to do, so she sat and waited while he processed this.

"I thought I'd never hear you say those words," He said softly. She glanced at him, only to find him facing her completely. His eyes filled with an intensity that made her heard thud in her chest, that made her hands tremble.

Ever so slowly, he reached out to her. His hand, his large warm palm, rested on her shoulder, then skimmed around to her back. His other hand cupped her face. And then he was surrounding her, holding her with a tender ferocity.

"I love you, Sarah," He whispered into her hair. "I love you with every part of me."

Her eyes welled with tears. It was something, a bolt to the heart, a balm to the soul, to hear those words.

"Even," He continued, a light teasing in his tone, "With the parts of me that you don't like."

She smiled, blinking back her tears.

"Mac?" He said after a few moments of silence.

"Hm?" She didn't move from her very comfortable position against his chest. Even if the stick shift was poking her side.

"I really am sorry for not trying to find you this last year, for not getting in touch with you. I resigned my commission to find you in Paraguay because I couldn't bear losing you, but I couldn't buy a ticket to San Diego."

She didn't say anything, only nodded against his shoulder. It was going to take time to deal with the hurt that had collected.

"I know it will take time to deal with that," He continued, reading her thoughts, "But I just wanted to say how sorry I am I hurt you that way."

"We both hurt each other," She reminded him. She just hadn't realized until quite recently how her leaving had affected him. "I'm sorry, too."

"I promise to work on better communicating with you." His fingers sifted through her hair, causing such simple enjoyment. "On being honest."

"Thank you," She whispered, half to him, half to the heavens.

"I want you to know how important you are to me," He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes. "I may not always say it, Sarah, but it will always be true."

She sniffed and tried not to cry.

"Dammit," She tried for levity, "Why am I the only one crying?"

But his own eyes were suspiciously wet, and the way he was looking at her...

"It just feels so good to hear you say that to me," She couldn't help her tears. He brushed them away with his fingers. It was such a familiar touch, one she'd almost forgotten the feel of, that a fresh batch of tears came.

"Then I'll try to say it more often," He told her. "And I'll always mean it. Like when I send you an occasional cupcake at work," He teased.

She laughed. "I'd like that."

He sat still, his eyes roaming her face. He drew a finger along her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" He asked hopefully.

"Anytime you want to," She whispered.

He immediately took her up on it. She savoured all 36 seconds of kissing in his corvette, of reconnecting in this way. 36 seconds of tenderness, of affection, of heat ... until his phone rang.

"My mother," He mumbled, resting his forehead against hers. "Probably wondering where we are." He didn't make any move to answer, and the ringing stopped.

"We should go," He said reluctantly.

"We should," She agreed, and decided to remind him of the day ahead. It would probably get him moving. "And then you can teach me how to fly."

A grin transformed his face. "I've been looking forward to it all week," He admitted. He leaned in to kiss her again, when his phone ringing interrupted them once more. Harm sighed in resignation and answered.

"We're on our way, Mom," He said into the receiver, and then paused as his mother replied. "Yeah, Mom. It is ... I did ... Thanks." He cleared his throat as he disconnected, and then he smiled at her.

"Ready?" He asked.

Mac nodded. "Ready."

-- 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Don't own'em!

-

**Fresh Start 10**

_Later that Sunday, at the Burnett Home..._

Harm knocked on the door, while Mac watched. She smoothed her dress and straightened her hair.

"Nervous?" Harm teased her, that taunting gleam in his eye. It usually had instigated her to spar with him, but today it just made her happy. She'd missed the annoying little boy he sometimes became.

"Am not." She replied. In the last half hour she'd shed some tears, and then made out with Harm. So of course she wanted to make sure she looked fit for public consumption. Speaking of which ... she thought to turn to Harm and make sure he looked presentable too. An assessing look determined that he presented just fine. Better than fine. Mac straightened his collar, just to make sure, and was satisfied. Harm was watching her, an affectionate smile on his lips and an altogether different gleam in his eye. The door opened before Mac could process either.

"Harm, Sarah!" Trish exclaimed.

"Trish," Mac said genially, "I brought croissants," She said, indicating the box Harm was holding. The rest of her greeting was forgotten when Trish pulled her into a warm hug. A hug that was tight with relief, soft with comfort.

"I am so happy you could join us, Mac," Trish enthused. Mac glanced at Harm in question, wondering at his mother's welcome. She didn't know Trish very well, but she thought there might be more emotion in this hug than one simple brunch could justify.

"Thank you, Ma'am - um, Trish," Mac immediately corrected. One day, she hoped, she'd stop retreating into formality whenever overwhelmed by Harm's mother.

"And Harm!" Trish said, releasing Mac and moving to hug her son. "I am so happy you brought Sarah!"

"Mom," Harm said, looking slightly alarmed himself. He gave Mac a sheepish expression as he extricated himself from his mother's embrace. He shoved the box of croissants towards her. "Here, you should put these in a bread basket." He spoke quickly and ushered Mac through the foyer, "Is Frank out back?" He called over his shoulder. "I'll introduce Mac."

Before Mac could think to process the strange look of warning Harm had directed at his mother or his mother's exuberant greeting, he'd rushed Mac away from Trish and towards the back of the house.

"Frank should be out on the deck, Mac." He told her, hands firmly on her shoulders. "I can give you the dime tour of this place after breakfast if you want."

She knew him well enough to know he was trying to distract her.

"Is everything okay, Harm?" She glanced up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," He nodded, looking a bit embarrassed. "Mom tends to get a bit overexcited when it comes to my, ah, personal life."

The tips of his ears were red, something Mac found thoroughly amusing.

Before she could tease him about it, he pushed open the patio door and let Mac exit before following her out.

"Frank," He called to the older gentleman who was sitting at the table, immersed in a newspaper. "Meet Sarah MacKenzie. Mac, this is Frank."

The older man stood up, grinning. Mac thought it a very infectious smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir," She offered her hand.

Frank took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he stepped closer to her and kissed her right cheek and then her left cheek in greeting. "The pleasure is most definitely mine, Sarah." His grin deepened and with it his eyes shone. "Please, call me Frank."

Mac was effectively charmed.

"Why don't you have a seat, Sarah," He led her over to a chair. "Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, orange juice? It's freshly squeezed."

"Thank you, Frank," She replied, taking the seat he offered. "Orange juice sounds great."

He poured juice into her glass from a pitcher before reclaiming his chair. "Harm says you agreed to take flying lessons from him?"

"He did talk me into it," Mac replied, eying the delicious spread on the table.

Frank laughed. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing! And here I thought you would help me convince Trish that my taking flying lessons is not a bad idea."

"Well," Mac glanced in mischief at Harm who was seating himself in the chair next to hers. "I am excited to learn, and I think it's a great idea, but the last time Harm took me up-"

"Mac!" Harm interrupted, alarmed. "You cannot tell that story within earshot of my mother!"

Frank raised his eyebrow, and glanced towards the shut patio doors. The mischief in his eyes mirrored Mac's. "She can't hear us, Harm." His conspiratorial look was all for Mac. "What's the story."

"Well, we had engine trouble in midair. Turns out the fuel line broke-"

"It was a poor quality piece." Harm declared, crossing his arms. "I even wrote a letter to the manufacturer."

"Of course you did." Mac laughed. "He landed Sarah in the middle of a field, with nothing but miles of forest around us. And then he refused to leave her. It took a lot of convincing but I finally talked him into leaving Sarah behind so we could go out in search of help-"

"You left Sarah behind!" Frank exclaimed, looking at Harm in surprise.

Harm huffed. "Have you heard Mac when she argues? It's easier to give in."

"Said in the true spirit of a man who knows when he's wrong," Mac threw back.

Frank laughed. "She's got you pegged, son."

"If you take her side on this," Harm joked, "I'm going to stop trying to convince Mom to let you take flying lessons."

With a grin in Mac's direction, Frank heaved a theatrical sigh. "I'll have to agree that sometimes it is easier to give in with women."

"Frank," Mac said, leaning in towards the older man, "Given Harm's utter failure in convincing Trish so far, I think you'd be better off on my team."

"You think you can convince Mom?" Harm turned to her in surprise.

"I know I can," She declared. "I'm even willing to bet on it." She felt that long-forgotten, familiar thrill at challenging him.

Harm gave Mac an appraising look. "I don't think you know what you're up against. Mom is even more stubborn than I am."

Was that even possible, Mac wondered. "Name your terms, Flyboy."

He gave it some thought, and then a diabolical look overran his features. "If I win, you have to come over to my place for dinner."

"That's a terrible bet!" She exclaimed. She had incentive to lose, not to win with those terms.

"And eat my meatless meatloaf," He continued, a terribly wicked gleam in his eye.

"You better be sure about this, Mac," Frank chimed in. "Trish and I have faked many unexpected social engagements to get out of eating his meatless meatloaf."

Mac laughed, while Harm looked offended. "That is not true, Frank." He glanced at Mac, who tried not to appear too amused, "He's just kidding, Mac."

"And if I win?" She asked.

"If you win I will take you out for the biggest, juiciest, bloodiest steak in the city."

"You have a deal," Mac said, offering her hand. Harm shook it. Mac grinned happily, already envisioning her gorgeous slab of steak.

"What deal is this?" Trish asked, stepping through the door with a plate of eggs in her hands and a warm smile on her face.

Immediately, all three turned to her with guilty expressions. Mac let go of Harm's hand, and then they all spoke at once:

"Those eggs look delicious."

"You outdid yourself with breakfast."

"That smells great."

Trish stood still just outside the door for a moment, her brow furrowed. Trish looked first at Mac, who quickly looked away. She wasn't used to that particular look of motherly berating. Trish then turned to Harm, who stoically returned her gaze, and then to Frank, who offered a tentative smile.

"This is about those flying lessons you want to take, isn't it, Frank." She declared, setting the plate of eggs on the table and taking a seat.

"Actually," Harm said, exchanging glances with Frank. Harm's face took on an expression he only wore when he thought he was at the threshold of victory. "We were discussing Mac's flying lessons."

"Is that so." Trish asked, turning to Mac with a warm smile. "Are you looking forward to it, Mac?"

"I am," Mac replied, however, before she could continue Harm cut her off.

"That's true. You know, Mom, Mac has only had such wonderful experiences when flying with me that it made her want to learn."

Mac barely avoided choking on her orange juice at hearing that untruth. She looked at Harm, who appeared perfectly serious. Frank, for his part, was hiding his laughter behind a napkin.

"And anyone can learn to fly, really. I was surprised myself that the flight school has such a varied clientele," Harm continued. "Everything from teenagers to retired couples ready for their next adventure."

Trish raised one eyebrow, and Mac thought that Harm's best option would be to fallback and formulate a better plan of action.

"As a matter of fact, a couple in their sixties came by just last week," He continued, seeming a bit nervous himself at Trish's expression.

And Mac reminded herself that Harm had never been really great at dispassionate plans. Even Frank looked alarmed as Trish's other eyebrow shot up. It was clear his mother was on to him.

"Nice try, Harmon." His mother said, before looking over the table in dismay. "I forgot the croissants," She said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

"Real smooth, Rabb," Mac said once Trish had left the deck.

Frank laughed.

"Now let me work my magic," She stood up and followed Trish into the house.

"Mac," Trish said upon seeing her enter the kitchen. "Do you need anything?"

"Just a glass of water, please," Mac replied. "I can help myself."

"Nonsense, it won't take a minute," Said Trish, opening the cupboard for a glass and proceeding to fill it with water.

"Thank you for inviting me, Trish." She set the ball rolling.

"Mac I've been pestering Harm to bring you over for years." Trish laughed, and Mac tried to hide her surprise at the revelation. "I'm just glad you and Harm are giving this a try. You are very good for him," She handed Mac the glass of water. "And I know he can be good for you."

"He already is, already has been," Mac said, taking the glass, wondering why Trish was trying to convince her so earnestly.

"Harm may get a bit..." Trish hesitated, "Overprotective at times," She leveled an assessing look at Mac. There was an edge of worry her expression. "But his heart is always in the right place."

"He's a good man," Mac agreed, unsure of what was happening here. What was Trish thinking ... Mac looked down at her glass, an idea suddenly forming. She felt that blunt edge of guilt against her gut. After this past year, maybe Trish just didn't trust her. "I understand, Trish," She said this with quite a bit of difficulty.

"Understand what?" Trish replied.

"I ... I understand why you might be ... upset with me." Mac looked up, and was compelled to elaborate at Trish's expression of confusion. "You said Harm was miserable this past year, and..." She trailed off.

Trish's eyebrows shot up in something akin to horror. She quickly shook her head.

"Oh, darling." She put her hand on Mac's arm, "I know my son well enough not to be blind to his faults." Regret took shape in her eyes. "He let his father's disappearance consume him for so long that he didn't go through all those normal phases in life that would have opened up his heart. I used to worry about him quite a bit."

"It was good for him to find his dad," Mac agreed, not exactly sure where Trish was going with this.

Trish smiled, "Mac, it was good for him to find you."

Mac didn't even even know how to process that, and her confusion must have been evident.

"He wouldn't have been so despondent this year otherwise, or so determined now," Trish explained. "Growing pains."

Mac smiled. What a wonderfully positive way of looking at heartbreak.

"I was lucky to find him too," Mac offered. "I just ... things got really bad for a while and I forgot that. But I won't forget again. Which," She continued, remembering her mission. "Which is why I accepted Harm's offer to take flying lessons."

Trish cocked her head to the side, her brow furrowed. "You sound worried."

"Well," Mac glanced over her shoulder towards the deck. Harm would kill her if he ever found out she revealed this to his mother. "Harm probably hasn't told you that he took me up flying once."

Trish shook her head.

"There was a problem with the fuel line and he had to land us in a field surrounded by forest."

"Oh my," Trish said.

"We left Sarah behind to find some help, and long story short we had to spend the night in the forest."

"Sounds like quite the adventure." Trish laughed.

Mac managed a smile. Adventure indeed. "I learned a lot about Harm that night; namely how important flying is to Harm. It's his connection with his father, one apart from the Navy."

That caught Trish's attention. Mac was encouraged.

"When he offered to give me lessons last week," She went on, "I think it was his way of sharing a part of him with me, of telling me..." She didn't want to go into the full details of her trust issues where Harm was concerned, or Harm's control issues where she was concerned.

"Of telling you what you mean to him," Trish finished.

Mac nodded, and watched as the pieces clicked together for Trish.

"So," Trish said slowly, "You're saying you think that's why he's offering Frank lessons?"

Mac nodded. "I think so."

Trish mulled this over. "Harm has never been very good at communicating," She acknowledged. Then she sighed, looking at Mac with a wry smile "You haven't seen Frank's car collection, Sarah. He also owns a yacht. I can just see him adding a Cessna to the list." She shook her head in fond exasperation. "I wish they would bond over something simpler, like a game of checkers. Or Scrabble."

"That would be far too simple." Mac laughed, and Trish joined her.

Trish stood up, patting Mac's knee. "Come on, darling, let's get back to breakfast." She picked up the croissants, now in a basket, and waited for Mac to follow.

"Harm," Trish said as she stepped out onto the deck. She put the basket of croissants on the table and wrapped her arms around Harm's neck in a hug. "I think it is very sweet and wonderful of you to offer Frank lessons." She looked up at Frank, whose jaw was open in shock. "You should take him up on his offer." She place a kiss on the head of a very surprised Harm before straightening herself. "I forgot the fruit basket" She said happily. "I'll be right back."

The moment the patio doors shut behind Trish, both Harm and Frank turned to look at Mac.

"Have you ever won a bet against her?" Frank asked Harm, his shock still intact.

"Actually," Mac answered, smiling at Harm's stunned expression, "I just borrowed one of Harm's tactics: the good old emotional appeal." She then turned to Frank, "So, tell me Frank, where can I find the best steak in the city?"

--

_Some time later, at an airfield miles away..._

Harm stood stood next to Mac, watching her as she took in the airfield in front of them. As her eyes roamed the hangers and the parked planes, her hand slipped into his. Harm grinned: this was the first time she'd initiated such contact, and she didn't even seem to realize she was doing it.

"Wow, Harm." She said, still looking over the field. "This is really impressive."

He was about to reply when he saw John, one of the mechanics, watching them with keen interest. An interest, Harm thought, that John should be directing at the plane he was inspecting. Out of instinct, or perhaps training, Harm let go of Mac's hand. He realized only after he did it that Mac would probably take it the wrong way. He turned to her to explain, but found her watching John with a look of amusement.

"Oops," She grinned at Harm, and for John's benefit she made a big show of putting her hands in her pockets. "Don't want to distract the troops with scuttlebutt."

"Mac," He started apologetically, and then realized that she didn't seem upset. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying his discomfort.

"Don't worry, Harm." She was quick to assure him. "I understand. I wouldn't let you hold my hand if you came to see me at JLS."

And at that moment, Harm was hit by a rare moment of clarity.

"You know what, Mac. You're right." Wearing his widest grin, he pulled her hand out of her pocket and held it in his. It was exhilarating to be able to do this. "I think I just found another perk to no longer being in the Navy."

Mac laughed delightedly. "Just don't try to hold my hand if you come visit me at work," She warned in a teasing tone.

Harm felt a blanket of happiness surround him. He was at his airfield, about to teach Mac how to fly, and he didn't have a single regulation, protocol or self-imposed restriction to keep him from touching her. Or from...

He leaned down and kissed her.

"I keep forgetting you gave me an open invitation to do that." He raised an eyebrow, not able to hide his smugness.

Mac actually blushed. She'd probably noticed, just as he had, that not only was John watching them, but a handful of other employees were as well. He found he didn't care. Not only did a good group of people work here, but he'd earned their respect as an aviator and an employer since he took over the operation of the flight school. Kissing the love of his life would hardly change that. Besides which, he was just too damn happy in this moment to care much about anything but the woman in front of him.

"C'mon," She tugged his hand, trying not to appear as off-kilter as she evidently was. Still got it, Rabb. Harm felt very cocky.

"Show me around," She insisted.

"Hold on," He said, keeping her from getting too far. "First, tell me how you managed to change Mom's mind."

She looked at him for a moment. "Trade secret?" She offered with a slight grin.

"Nice try." He shook his head. "Just tell me," He coaxed.

"I only mentioned what flying means to you," She shrugged, seeming a bit self-conscious under his scrutiny. "And what it meant for you to offer Frank lessons."

He stared at her intently, he couldn't help it. He thought maybe, just maybe he was getting through to her. And maybe he was coming to a few realizations about himself too, and an acceptance of the path his life had taken this past year. He had been so far from her, the distance between them larger than any continent could span, and yet it had worked to bring him closer to her. It had helped him grow into the kind of person she deserved, into the kind of person he could be proud of. Not because of the number of medals he'd had pinned to his chest, or the number of lives he'd saved or cases he'd won, or even the breadth of his bravery, but because he'd opened himself up. To her. And in this lay a new kind of strength, not the weakness he'd thought was there all those years before. He never would have learned this valuable lesson if it hadn't been for this terrible, awful past year where every breath marked his time apart from her, and yet where each breath made him stronger. All the recriminations, the heartache, the anger through those dark, lonely nights were a painful, necessary acknowledgment of what he felt for her. Each heartbeat brought him out of hiding. It was fate - he knew this with a conviction that would see him through the rest of his life - it was fate that they meet when they did. Only fate could bring them together when he was ready to act on his heart's fondest wish. When he was ready to be the kind of person who deserved her trust.

"Do you know how much you mean to me?" He asked, raising his fingers to caress her face.

Mac went still. She searched his eyes for long moments before nodding her head. He could see it in her eyes: she understood at least part of it. He still had to explain so much to her, he knew, but she was taking this - the flying lessons - at face value. A value that he himself had not really consciously given thought to. His love for her blossomed with the realization.

"Come," She said, tugging his hand, clearly unnerved by his scrutiny of her. "Give me the tour. And," She added with a nod towards the curious faces watching them, "Introduce me. Then you can take me flying."

He led her towards the main hangar, all set to comply to her request. Her wishes would set the pace for them, but his words and his actions would make his intent clear. He thought of the coming week, and started making plans for all he needed to do.

--

_The following Monday...  
_  
A knock sounded at Mac's door.

"Enter," She called, looking up from her work.

"Ma'am," Jen stepped into her office, carrying a bright green box with a yellow ribbon. "A package just came for you."

Mac laughed, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. She knew what was in the box. "Thanks, Jen," She stood up to take the box from her yeoman.

Jen looked about ready to burst with curiosity, a fact Mac was more than glad to ignore.

"That will be all," She dismissed, and then thought to add, "And hold my call for the next ten minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jen responded crisply, not asking the question that was obviously on the tip of her tongue. And that, thought Mac happily, was the results of months of training the younger woman, and another example of how the Marines got the job done.

Mac waited for Jen to shut the door behind her before settling herself on the couch in her office. She removed her pumps, tucked her feet under her, and opened the box. Inside was a cupcake with extra icing and a note from Harm. The note simply said _H_, but she knew what to read between the lines.

Monday was fast becoming her favourite day of the week.

Ten minutes of hedonism later, Mac put her pumps back on and reclaimed her seat behind the desk. But before re-immersing herself in work, she picked up the phone and called Harm's number.

"Rabb," His voice came through the line.

"Don't think one cupcake makes up for all the homework you saddled me with," She said, leaning back in her chair.

He laughed. "I had to try," He teased. "The look on your face was priceless!"

"Right," Mac huffed. "What did you expect? You complain about the worksheet I'd drawn up for your red herring Russian lessons, and then you give me a massive flight manual and tell me I need to familiarize myself with it by next Sunday. I do have fulltime job, Harm."

"You lazy students," He assumed a professorial haughtiness, "Always complaining."

"It's huge! It'd made a better doorstop than a book."

"Speaking of which, how much progress have you made?"

Mac couldn't even respond to that. He'd dropped her home at 2230 last night and then she was too wired from spending an entire, wonderful, incredible day with him to sleep. Not to mention the change in him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something in him had changed from the moment he'd brought her to his airfield ... or maybe she'd first noticed the change then, in which case who knew when it had occurred ... Sleep had been a distant second to the wonder that had kept her company last night, trying to figure out what exactly had been different about him. And then thinking about the way he'd looked at her, touched her, even spoken to her. There was an intensity, a depth to it all that was overwhelming and unfamiliar and exhilarating. He'd told her he loved her in the morning, before breakfast with his parents, but she'd actually seen it, felt it in the airfield that afternoon. Not to mention it had made him so incredibly irresistible. That was another reason sleep remained elusive last night. She'd needed two cups of coffee just to get the morning started.

"And you said I'd make a tough teacher," She replied, bringing her thoughts back to point. "I haven't made any progress. You kept me out way past my curfew."

"Did you have a good time yesterday?" He asked. Someone who didn't know him any better would've missed the uncertainty in his voice.

"I did," She assured him, the grin that had never strayed too far reaffirmed its presence. "It was great to meet everyone you work with." Her favourite part, though, had been when he'd taken her up in one of the planes and started showing her how to man the controls. Watching him explain what all the dials and gauges did and how they worked made her feel an odd sense of ... contentment. There was something about him when he was sitting next to her, teaching her how to fly. She wasn't sure what that something was, but she had many Sundays ahead of her during which to figure it out.

"Good." He replied. "Just make sure you go through the book."

Mac huffed at the thought of all that reading. "Yes, Sir," She sighed.

"Will I see you tonight?" He asked.

She eyed the stack of files on her desk, and thought of the work she had ahead of her. "Actually, I think I'm going to have another kind of homework altogether to do tonight."

"Well," He said with only a slight hesitation, "If you're up for it, I have to get my own paperwork organized for some meetings I have in the city on Thursday with the accountant and lawyers. I can bring it your place along with some take-out." He paused, before quickly adding, "Unless you're busy, or need some space-"

"Harm," She cut him off before he got too far ahead of himself with his worry. He was so cute. "It's fine. In fact, it's better than fine. I'd love to have a working dinner with you. I've missed those."

"Me too, MacKenzie." His smile was evident in the way he said her name.

"So I'll see you tonight?" Mac twisted the phone cord around her finger, already counting down the four hours, 39 minutes and 42 seconds until she could get out of here and head home.

"You most definitely will, Sweet thing."

She laughed at the endearment. "Bye, Harm."

Mac hung up the phone and looked down, unseeing, at the file on her desk. _Sweet thing._She smiled.

--


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Don't own'em!

-

Disclaimer: Don't own

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews. There are a total of 13 parts to this story.

--

**Fresh Start 11**

_Thursday, at Joint Legal Services_

Mac tapped her pen against the surface of her desk, her thoughts centered not on her work but on Harm. She knew he was in the city today, in a series of meetings scheduled with the accountant, lawyer, and a supplier or two for his flight school. They hadn't managed to spend time together this week beyond Monday night and their morning runs, mostly due to a sudden pile-on of work on her end. She'd been in the office until well past 2000 hours the last two days. It would be nice, Mac thought, to spend time with Harm and actually be able to talk. Their admittedly competitive runs didn't allow for much talking. She was too busy trying to outrun him, and he was too busy pretending it wasn't a challenge for him to keep pace with her.

Mac eyed her phone. Maybe he could spare the time for lunch with her. She picked up the receiver and dialled his number.

He answered after two rings, "Rabb."

"Hi, Harm."

"Mac." His smile was audible. She could picture the spark in his eyes. "Hey."

"How were your morning meetings?"

"They were alright. Everything is in order."

"That's good."

"The school is under good management," He declared in that familiar tone. Once upon a time, his arrogance used to rankle her. Then, being partnered with him, she'd learned to take it in stride. After missing him this past year, she was actually pleased that he still had it, that he was still familiar to her in this way even if he had changed so much.

"That it is," She agreed. "When's your next meeting?"

"It's been pushed back to 1500. Why?"

"I thought you might let me take you out to lunch."

"You have the time?" He asked eagerly. "I wanted to call and ask, but you've been so busy that I didn't want to disturb you at work."

"I'm sorry I haven't had much time these last couple of night-"

"Forget about it, Mac. Duty calls." He dismissed her worry. "I'll come pick you up."

"Here?" Mac's eyebrows rose in surprise. She didn't know how he felt about resigning his commission, not really. Seeing him in his element at his flight school this previous Sunday led her to believe he really did enjoy what he was doing. She didn't understand it, though. It gnawed at her. Was he really happy out of the Navy? He didn't talk about it. Not that they'd enough time to talk about everything that had gone on in their lives since Paraguay. Nor in Paraguay, for that matter. She also suspected that he hadn't quite registered how much he enjoyed his work. When he spoke of the flight school, it was as though he'd accepted the card fate had dealt him. But this Sunday, when he'd shown her around, when he'd handed her a thick flying manual and told her to get cracking, when he'd shown her the planes in the hangars, there had been a familiar gleam in his eye. One that was reminiscent of how he looked and acted when he was on a carrier or in a flight suit.

And she couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding back ... Just as she was. They'd talked about her moving to San Diego, they'd talked about his missing her, they'd talked about her relationship with Ethan, but they hadn't talked about Paraguay, about Singer's murder, about any of the things that had driven them apart in the first place. What if they couldn't survive that conversation? She didn't think - no, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it if she opened her heart even more to him only to have it broken.

"Sure," Harm replied, bringing Mac back to their conversation. "Joint Legal Services is where you work, and I know how important your work is to you."

Well, that was very sweet. But still. "Bud's here," She reminded him, "And Jen." She didn't want to dissuade him, she just wasn't sure how he felt about this either. He hadn't spoken to either of them in over a year.

"It'll be great to see them again." He replied without the least bit of hesitation.

"Okay," Mac agreed. Her heart loosened at his willingness to come here, another bit of the guilt that had held her hostage since Paraguay faded just slightly away. "Do you know where it is?"

"Don't worry about that, Mac. I always know where you are, remember?"

She grinned. "See you, Harm."

"In twenty, MacKenzie."

--  
_  
A half hour later..._

Harm stood in the elevator, pinning his visitor's badge onto the lapel of his suit jacket. He straightened his collar. He wondered if he should have kept his tie on; he might have felt a bit less naked with it.

He hadn't stepped foot in a military installation of any kind since he'd walked out of JAG. Chegwidden had left a message on his machine one time, asking him for help reviewing some files. Harm was also pretty sure the admiral had stopped by his apartment. Mercifully, Harm had made a point of being home as little as possible during that time.

And now, here he was. He had, in truth, been to the JLS offices before, but he had never even entered the parking lot. He'd looked up the address only once since Mac had moved to San Diego, when he was sitting in his apartment in DC after having a bit too much to drink. Since his move here, he'd only driven by three times and each time he'd been driving by on his way to somewhere else. The first time he hadn't even slowed down his car - in fact he'd sped up. The second time he'd driven by at a normal speed. The third time, he'd slowed down his car and looked out the window towards the building. Each time he'd reeked of a desperation he'd never before felt, and never again wanted to feel no matter how it made him acknowledge what Mac meant to him, what he'd lost in losing her.

That, however, was in the past. It was also nothing he would ever share with Mac, not even on his deathbed. As far as she was concerned, he'd looked up the address in the phone book right after their conversation half an hour ago. He also reminded himself that coming here was his idea. He wanted to prove himself to Mac, show her that he had grown, he wanted a future with her. Her work had always been important to her, and so it would be important to him too.

The elevator doors opened, and Harm found himself smiling at the familiarity of military personnel buzzing around the bullpen. He stepped out of the elevator and simply stood there, soaking it in. It felt just a little bit like home. However, as he let his eyes roam a scene he used to be an integral part of, he didn't feel loss or regret or any of those terrible things that he worried would follow him around. It was as much a relief as it was a puzzle. What, he wondered, brought on this change?

"Sir?"

Harm turned at hearing a very familiar voice.

"Bud," He scolded, his grin stretching from ear to ear, "I am no longer in the Navy. You can call me Harm."

Bud stared, stock-still.

Harm laughed, slapping the younger man on the shoulder, "How are you? Look at all that gray," He indicated Bud's hair. "You're an old man!"

His once-protege laughed. "Harm!" He exclaimed, snapping out of his state of shock. "Wow." He offered Harm a hand, which he shook heartily. "It's great to see you. How are you? I mean, wow."

"I'm doing great, Bud." He replied, amused by Bud's shock. "How are Harriet and the kids? How's AJ?"

"He's great. They're all great." Bud grinned widely. "You should come by and see everyone. I can't believe you're actually here."

"I would love to see the family, Bud. Mac mentioned that she and little AJ have a date this Saturday afternoon," Harm said, "Building sandcastles. Maybe you, Harriet and Jimmy could join us for a BBQ at Mac's place in the evening. It'd be good to catch up."

"I'll tell Harriet," Bud agreed, nodding vigorously. "AJ is going to be over the moon to see you. He still has that model Stearman you gave him, it's his prized possession."

Harm's chest swelled. "I'll have to take him up in the real thing, then."

"He would love that," Bud said, and then just stared at Harm, looking both happy and still very surprised. Clearly it hadn't yet fully set in. "What are you doing in San Diego?"

"I live here now," Harm said. The conversation was now going to go in the exact direction he was dreading. "Moved from DC some months back. I run a flying school."

The younger man's eyes lit up. "A flying school?" He said, awed. "Wow."

Harm laughed. "I'm actually giving Mac lessons." It was, he acknowledged without remorse, an attempt to change the topic.

"The Colonel? Learning to fly?"

"Yep. She's a natural."

"I suppose she would pick up some tricks being partnered with you for so many years."

Harm nodded in acknowledgment. He hadn't considered that.

"How long have you been living here?"

So much for changing the subject. He just didn't want to hurt Bud's feelings, and from the expectant look on Bud's face Harm knew he was about to do just that, at least in some measure.

"Eight months, going on nine," He answered honestly. "There wasn't anything for me in DC. This way, I'm closer to family."

Bud's eyes widened in surprise. "Eight months," He repeated. He glanced towards Mac's office, and then quickly back at Harm.

"My parents are here," Harm elaborated, not wanting Bud to paint a flawed picture.

"Oh, right. I remember," Bud nodded slowly, clearly confused and a little hurt.

"I really am sorry I didn't keep in touch, Bud." Harm offered. "I was ... well..." He trailed off, all the excuses he'd come up with seemed paper thin.

"And I'm sure the CIA kept you busy, and then the move to San Diego..." Bud also trailed off. Harm wondered what the scuttlebutt had been about his resignation and sudden disappearance. He hadn't talked to anyone since he'd left. He'd even been adept at avoiding Sturgis. First, his wounded pride had fed his anger, and then Mac's sudden decision to leave had. It was enough to make him view the Navy and JAG as another life, one he wanted no more part of.

They stood in a silence that was just shy of awkward, until Harm decided he owed more to Bud then a half-assed excuse.

"It's no reason not to keep in touch, Bud. Especially not with my godson. I hadn't expected the admiral to process my resignation, and I didn't really have a contingency plan for it."

Bud shook his head quickly, "No, Harm. You don't need to apologize. We understand. You lost an important part of your life."

His words were an echo of Mac's, spoken to him in a stuffy hotel room in Paraguay.

"But not the most important, Bud." He smiled ruefully, thinking he'd managed that all by himself, without any help from the admiral. But he was working on getting all those back. "Which is why I'm looking forward to this Saturday."

"Me too." Bud grinned, "Are you here to see the Colonel?" He asked, his tone as sly as Harm had ever heard from the younger man. Clearly he'd become more perceptive in the last year.

"I am taking her out to lunch," Harm acknowledged, giving nothing away. He wasn't sure what aspects of her life Mac wanted to make public.

"It's just straight down and to the left," Bud pointed towards the other end of the bullpen. He hesitated for a moment before venturing, "She's been in a really good mood these past few days."

Harm grinned, his previous trepidation fading in the face of boisterous pride. "I can take full responsibility for that."

Bud lit up. "That's good." He leaned in closer to Harm and lowered his voice, "Don't tell the Colonel, but Harriet was worried about her when we first moved here. She just wasn't herself."

Harm sobered at hearing that. "I'm working on it, Bud," He hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, "Paraguay was hard for all of us."

"So was what preceded it," Bud said bravely.

Harm nodded, realizing this was something else he and Mac needed to talk about. But he wasn't willing to go there yet. "It was great to see you again, Bud." He put a hand on Bud's shoulder. "I'll get your number from Mac and we can iron out our plans for Saturday."

"Great," He replied. "Harriet will be so excited!"

Harm's smile accompanied him all the way to Mac's yeoman's desk. That did not go as terribly as he thought it would - given he'd thought they'd it would go pretty terribly. And upon reaching Mac's yeoman's desk, his smile only widened at seeing another familiar face.

"I'm here to see the Colonel," He announced.

Jennifer Coate's head snapped up. And then her jaw dropped.

"Sir?"

"It's Harm, Jen."

"With all due respect, Sir," She replied, still in shock. "I think I'll stick to Sir."

Harm laughed. "You, a stickler for discipline? That Marine," He indicated Mac's office door, "Really did whip you into shape," He teased.

Coates grinned. "How are you? What are you doing here, Sir?" She asked in quick succession, and then thought to apologize for being nosy, "I don't mean to pry..."

He had to laugh again. Mac really had straightened Coates out. But then, she'd done the same with him so this could hardly come as a surprise. At least he could say that he'd held out for 10 years, give or take.

"I'm doing great, Jen. And I'm here to take Mac out for lunch."

Jen's eyes darted towards her CO's doors. "Does the Colonel know you're here?" She sounded worried, and perhaps a little protective.

Harm smiled warmly at the younger woman. "She does, Jen." He assured her, his tone gentle, "Can I head in?"

"Of course," Jen nodded quickly, looking a bit embarrassed at whatever story she'd concocted in her head to explain his presence. "Go right ahead." And then, inexplicably, her expression broke into a smile.

"Sir?" She looked like a cat that got the cream.

"What is it Jen?"

"Did you know the Colonel is a big fan of cupcakes?"

The intrepid P.O. was connecting the dots. Harm worked hard to try and suppress a smile, but in the end he just couldn't. "I don't know what you're talking about, Coates." He hoped Mac wouldn't kill him for being transparent.

She laughed. "Of course not, Sir. Go right ahead," She gestured towards Mac's office door.

"Thanks," He gave Jen another smile for good measure, and then walked into Mac's office.

"Hey, Sweet thing," He greeted, shutting the door behind him. And then he stopped to take in the scene of Mac in uniform, sitting behind a desk, looking up at him. It was such a familiar thing to see, something he'd missed with such fierce consistency without even realizing it. This. This was like coming home. The hustle of the bullpen, the familiar smell of military law, it was good to feel, but this here - Mac, looking up at him from behind a desk - this made him happy.

"You look good behind that desk, Mac." He told her.

She was giving him her most stunning smile as she stood up and walked around her desk, cover in hand. "Hey, Harm," She beamed.

"And you look really, really good in that uniform," He said, holding out a hand for her.

Her smile, if possible, went up a notch. She took his hand, and he pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek. It was still new, this freedom to touch her, and it made him heady to think of it let alone act on it.

"Hey, Gorgeous." He whispered.

She sighed happily, her eyes closed, her forehead on his chin. "Hey. I like the suit. Very debonair."

"I am a scholar and a gentleman, Mac," He teased, and delighted in her soft laughter. "Come," He said, taking a step back and offering her his arm. "Let me take you out to lunch."

"I thought I was taking you out to lunch?" She replied, slipping her hand around his arm, settling it in the crook of his elbow.

"Semantics." He led her to the door, which he was about to open for her when he felt her hesitate. Harm looked at her in question.

Mac glanced at her hand, where it rested on his arm. She then glanced at the door, looking regretful. Harm laughed, remembering her words at the airfield on Sunday.

"Oops," He grinned as he let go of her hand. "Wouldn't want to distract the troops with scuttlebutt."

Mac laughed. She looked at him with a particularly appealing sparkle in her eye. "Thanks, Harm."

He gave her a warm smile. One hand on the doorknob, he leaned in for a quick kiss. Which became a much longer kiss when he put his hand on her shoulder and felt her oak leaf resting there. He hadn't been kidding when he said she looked good in uniform. This - kissing her while she was in full uniform - was an incredible turn on.

He pulled back before he got carried away. "Lunch," He reminded them both, feeling slightly dazed. They hadn't done much beyond some hand-holding and kissing. He wondered how long he could hold out for before he would have to take fifteen mile runs and multiple cold showers a day.

"Lunch," She repeated, looking dazed herself.

He gave them both a moment to regroup before opening the door. He made sure to maintain a modest distance from her, ignoring the curious, poorly hidden glances that followed them through the bullpen and into the elevators.

He waited until the elevator doors closed before turning to Mac. "I think we still managed to distract them."

Her answer came in the form of a very eloquent eye-roll.

--

_Some time later, at a nearby restaurant..._

Harm watched as she put aside her menu and took a sip of her water. He could tell she was preoccupied, and he knew what the cause was.

"You can ask me, Mac."

Her eyes flicked to his, unsure. He tried to look as encouraging as he knew how.

Finally, she relented. "Are you alright?"

"About what?" He asked. Perhaps it was perverse of him, but he wanted her to spell it out. This way, he wouldn't have to volunteer more information than was strictly necessary.

"About walking into a JAG office without being in the Navy. About seeing Bud and Jen again." She stopped, and then continued, "About losing your life in the Navy when you..." Again she stopped. "Last year."

She couldn't say it either.

He shrugged. "It wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. I realized that I don't miss it all that much." He shook his head, again wondering at his reaction to walking into a bullpen again. It had been surprisingly not unpleasant. "A year ago, I never thought I'd say those words." He looked at her fully, sure to convey his sincerity. "But things change, and I am happy where I am. I'm getting there."

She was relieved, but a bit skeptical.

"What I told you was true, Mac: I don't regret a thing about what I did. I would do it again without a second thought, no matter the consequence."

"But all you lost..."

"It was worth it."

That stopped her in her tracks. "I was worried you'd hate me for losing the Navy." She fiddled with her napkin. "I feel...responsible."

"Don't," He replied. "It was my decision, Mac." He thought of her kissing Clay, of the vice that had twisted his heart at seeing that. So many things he wished he'd done differently.

"I'm sorry-"

"Mac." His tone was final. He didn't want to hear her apologize to him. What he wanted was for her to promise he wouldn't lose her. But he'd learned the hard way that those weren't the kind of promises you could ask for. "I would do it again in a heartbeat. No matter the consequences, no matter the outcome."

He watched a weight lift off her shoulders. A glow appeared in her eyes that he had rarely seen in her. Had seen it once before, in fact, when she'd come back from her father's funeral. He hadn't realized this had worried her so much.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter appeared at their table. Harm looked at him, caught off guard by the interruption. "Or do you still need a few minutes?" The waiter asked.

"I'll have the salmon salad, please," Mac said, smiling at the young man.

Harm took a quick look at the items on offer. "Nicoise for me," Harm handed the waiter his menu.

Once the waiter left, he turned to Mac and found her idly people-watching, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk traffic that passed them by. That contented glow was now a warm aura surrounding her. He indulged in admiring her from across the cozy table they were seated at.

"Penny for your thoughts," He offered, leaning in towards her. He looked longingly at her hand, where it lay on the table between them, wishing she wasn't in uniform so he could trace her knuckles with his fingers.

She turned to him, a smile spreading over her features. "Nothing," She replied with a slight shrug. "Just ... happy."

She pulled him in even deeper, the sparkle in her eye and the warmth of her smile. To hell with it; he clasped his hand over hers.

"I love you," He said in reply, surprising even himself by saying that to her, let alone his ease at actually voicing the words. He'd expected a weight to follow them around for a few weeks still, while they rebuilt all they'd let themselves lose in the many months since Singer's murder. Instead, he was finding himself feeling lighter and lighter, free in a way he used to associate only with wide blue skies and a clear flight path. But here it was, even when she was the one setting the course.

She bit her lip, her expression consuming as she watched him with dark eyes. It made his heart thump in his chest, his palms sweat.

The waiter appeared, setting their meals in front of them. "Enjoy," He said genially. It was enough to break the connection. Mac blinked, Harm cleared his throat.

"That was really quick service," He said stupidly once the waiter left, still off-kilter. Those cold showers were going to start tonight. His comment was rewarded with laughter from Mac. He looked up at her and grinned, determined not to embarrassed.

"I had fun on Sunday," She said, changing the topic much to his relief. "Your parents are lovely people."

"They loved you." This was an understatement, if the praise both his mother and Frank had lavished on Mac was anything to go by. "You have an open invitation to Sunday brunch. This weekend we'll be having French toast."

"If it's anywhere near as good as those eggs your mother makes, I'm definitely in."

"I helped with that breakfast, you know," He said, feeling a need to remind her that he was a good cook too.

"I know, Harm," Her tone was indulgent and yet teasing at the same time. "But I've tasted your eggs, and those were nothing like them."

"She does make mean scrambled eggs," He acknowledged graciously, before adding, "But you've never tasted my French toast." He raised an eyebrow, the flirt in him coming to the surface, "But I suppose that will have to wait until I spend the night with you, right? Then I can make you breakfast."

She actually flushed, her skin taking an endearing pink glow, causing him to laugh in delight. He told himself not to get his hopes up, she was still skittish, but he was reading the signs correctly so perhaps he would be making her breakfast before too long.

"Well, as great as brunch was on Sunday, I still can't believe you gave me homework," She deftly changed the subject yet again.

"Did you start reading the manual?" He took her lead, still half distracted with thoughts of nights together with her and the breakfasts to follow.

"I haven't had the chance," She defended.

"Poor work ethic, MacKenzie," He teased.

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "Maybe you're right," She acknowledged. "I am having a hard time concentrating on it," She paused and he held his breath, hanging on her every word. "How about you come over for dinner and read it to me?"

"You need a tutor, MacKenzie?" He raised an eyebrow.

She traced her finger along his knuckles, acting on the intentions he'd had not ten minutes ago. Her eyes fixed on his. He realized that she'd never actually flirted with him before, not like this. She'd teased him, turned him on. But this was an altogether different side of her, one that brought him to life.

"I think it would really help ... All those diagrams." Her voice was low. "I guess I'm more of an auditory learner than I am a visual one."

"You've convinced me." Actually, she'd done more than that.

"It didn't take much." She remarked with mild surprise, leaning back in her chair.

"I'm easy, Mac" He replied, not even sure if he was kidding. Harm took a long, cool draw of water from his glass as Mac began on her salad, her fork spearing through a cherry tomato. He didn't think he'd ever wanted a woman so badly.

--

_Some time later, at Joint Legal Services..._

Mac exited the elevators, took a leveling breath and stepped into the bullpen. She ignored the sudden dip in noise levels, the barely noticeable stillness among her staff, the eyes that followed her trek back to her office. She could now say she much better understood Chegwidden's annoyance with his staff when it came to his personal life. She bit her tongue to keep from telling everyone to get back to work. She was going to ignore this. After all, this was the first time she'd taken a personal lunch with anyone other than Harriet since she'd started here. Not to mention Harm's looks attracted attention whenever he walked into a room.

"Ma'am," Jen stood as Mac walked by her desk, "A package came for you while you were out. I left it on your desk."

"Thank you, Jen," Mac nodded, wondering what the package could possibly be and hoping whatever it was didn't entail more paperwork.

The answer came on her desk, in the form of a small green bakery box, wrapped in a yellow ribbon.

A cupcake. Mac grinned. She sighed happily. Oh, Harm.

--

_That evening, at Mac's apartment..._

"And those are the basics of aerodynamics," He said, looking at the diagram he'd drawn for Mac. This was enthralling stuff, and he loved that he could teach it to her. When he glanced at her, however, she was busy doodling on her notepad.

"Mac!" He exclaimed, surprised that her attention could wander like this. He knew Mac could concentrate with singular purpose on even the most boring of topics. It was one of the things he found fascinating about her. And this here was hardly boring. "Are you even listening!"

She looked up from her drawing, startled. Then she frowned at him in what he decided was displeasure. "I understood what a skidding turn was the first time you explained it to me, Harm." She looked a bit annoyed. "You didn't need to explain it again two times or," She pointed to the pad in front of him, "Draw a diagram."

"Then how do you correct for a skidding turn?" He asked, hardly believing she could pick it up so easily.

"Well, it happens when the centrifugal force is greater than the horizontal lift, so you correct it with either a reduction in the rate of turn, an increase in bank, or a combination of the two."

Harm stared at her. That was impressive.

"I told you I'm a fast learner." For good measure, she leaned over him to illustrate her answer on his diagram. "There. Like that." She pointed to her picture in satisfaction. He was too busy enjoying being in such close contact with her to bother with the particulars of her answer.

"Right?" She asked, looking up at him. He got caught in the warm, brown eyes that filled so many of his dreams. He traced her cheekbone.

"So beautiful." It took him a moment to realize he'd said that out loud.

"Harm?" She whispered, looking at him just as she had this afternoon, over lunch.

He couldn't help himself; she smelled so good, looked so soft. And she was so close. He kissed her neck, a brush of his lips against her warm skin. He felt her melt beside him, lean into him, pliant. Her sigh resounded in his heart, tightened his body in response. "Sarah," He whispered, putting his hands on her waist. He kissed her neck again, nibbled his way to her jaw. Her hand slid through his hair, the other coming to rest on his knee.

"Harm." She turned slightly towards him, her hand sliding up higher along his leg before moving to his waist.

He finally reached her lips and pulled her into a deep, searching kiss to which she responded readily, welcoming him into the velvet warmth of her mouth. He slid his hand down to her six, pulling her closer to him. His other hand found it's way down her firm, flat stomach, and then under her shirt.

She was even softer than she looked, stronger than he'd allowed himself to imagine. And the way she was responding to his touch. Her hands were now cupping his face, her full attention centered on kissing him, softly, slowly, with an intent that reached deep inside him, slowly unfurling his heart to her. And with this one intimate touch he could feel her telling him what words could never convey. He was as much a part of her as she was of him. He felt it in the care with which she was exploring how each touch felt, the languid ease of each movement as she responded to him. He had never before been kissed with such intensity, that just this was overwhelming his senses.

She shifted onto his lap. He leaned back against the sofa, bringing her with him. His hand on her six pulled her even closer, his other slid down her stomach to rest on her upper thigh, slowly inching upwards.

"Harm," She whispered breathlessly, "Wait," But then she returned her lips to his and he split his concentration between the hottest kiss he'd ever experienced, and sliding his hand further up her thigh. He could feel her heat through the fabric of her jeans. His other hand left her six with some regret before shifting up her side.

"Harm," She mumbled through the kiss.

"Hm," He said, not really paying attention as his fingers traced the seam of her jeans.

She suddenly pulled away from him, moving off his lap. He opened his eyes, surprised by the sudden loss. It took him a moment to turn and look at her. She was leaning back against the couch, breathing heavily and looking slightly disheveled. He could do nothing but lean into her and nuzzle her neck. "What is it?" He asked, wondering how anyone's skin could be so impossibly soft. Could taste so good.

"We need to stop," She put a hand on his chest.

He did just that, and stared at her, convinced he'd misheard. Stop?

She gave him an apologetic look, and then wrung her hands in worry. She slid even further down the couch.

"Did - but..." He was having a hard time re-engaging his brain.

"I can't," She said, "It's just ... it's too soon."

Nine years, he wanted to scream. How was nine years too soon? He was going to die of frustration.

His thoughts must have been evident on his face, because she quickly moved to appease him. "Please, don't be upset."

"No," He shook his head quickly, trying to sound sincere. "I'm not upset."

"I just, I'm..." He watched her search his eyes. "Worried."

He frowned. "About what," He asked, moving away from her. She looked like she needed the space. However, when he shifted further along the couch from her, her eyes clouded. She looked miserable.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, looking away.

"Hey," He said, wanting to comfort her but afraid to touch her. He was, after all, only human. He finally just went on instinct and pulled her into a hug, telling his body to calm the hell down. "It's alright. I don't understand, but it's alright."

"It's only been a couple of weeks, and..." She trailed off, holding him tightly.

"You need more time; it's okay." He sighed with more than just a little regret. "And we still have a lot we need to talk about." It was probably best not to get distracted. Sex rarely came without strings, and she probably doubted they were able to handle all the entanglements just yet.

"I got carried away," He said by way of apology.

She laughed, letting him go. She looked embarrassed. "So did I."

"I'll take that as a compliment," He grinned, giving her a wink.

Her expression turned serious as she again cupped his face with her hands. "I do love you."

"I know," He replied. He'd felt it in the way she'd kissed him.

"I just..." She shrugged helplessly, conflicted.

"You need time to trust it," He finished for her, smoothing her hair away from her face, thinking really that she needed to have faith in the strength of this thing between them. So he gave her the reassurance she needed, "I love you too, Sarah."

"There's so much left to talk about..."

"I know," He said, "I know." He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and picked up his copy of the flight manual. "Chapter 4, Flight Controls," He read, trying to concentrate on something other than how Mac tasted on his lips, how she felt under his hands, all those difficult things she wanted to talk about.

"Right," She replied, picking up her book and focusing on the page in front of her. "Flight Controls."

--


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Don't own.

--  
**Fresh Start 12**

Mac opened her front door, wearing a large smile in anticipation of her afternoon companion.

"Aunt Mac!" AJ let go of his mom's hand and wrapped his arms around his godmother's legs. "Look at my new swimming trunks!"

"Are those planes?" Mac laughed, returning AJ's hug. "Very cool."

AJ looked up at Mac with his chest all puffed out. "Daddy said that Uncle Harm has lots of planes."

"That he does," Mac agreed.

"Is Uncle Harm here?" He peered around Mac's legs.

"Not yet, sweetie." She looked up at Harriet with a smile. "But he'll be here very soon."

"Oh," AJ looked disappointed.

"You know," Mac said in her most serious voice, thinking it might be best to distract him until Harm arrived. She didn't like seeing her godson sad. "I was packing our picnic in the kitchen and I cannot remember if I packed the cookies or not."

"Oh, no!" He exclaimed, horrified. "Don't worry, Aunt Mac. I'll go check!" He quickly scampered off to the kitchen.

Mac turned to a grinning Harriet

"How are you Harriet?" Mac asked, leaning in for a quick hug. "And the twins?" She indicated Harriet's protruding belly.

"Great, Ma'am. Thankfully very quiet this morning."

"It's Mac, Harriet. You aren't even in the Navy anymore. And, when you see Harm this evening," Mac warned in teasing, "You should call him Harm."

"I can only promise to try." Harriet laughed, "It's become habit!" She shook her head after a moment, "It will be strange to meet him as a civilian."

"He's the same without the uniform," Mac said, only mentally adding that this was true for the most part. He did seem lighter without it, she thought. She couldn't picture the Commander holding her hand and kissing her in front of his staff. Or perhaps it was just that her guilt over his resignation had been put to rest.

Harriet smiled widely. "It will be so great to see him." She glanced back towards the minivan parked on the side of the road. "I should go. Jimmy will start wondering what I'm up to."

"See you at 1700, Harriet. Enjoy the day with Jimmy and the twins."

"Bye, Mac." Harriet leaned into the house and said in a slightly louder tone, "Bye, AJ!"

Little footsteps pattered across the floor, followed by AJ's reappearance. "Bye, Mommy!" He waved at Harriet before tugging on Mac's hand to tend to more important matters. "You packed the cookies, Aunt Mac. I checked. And I tasted them also to check they were the good cookies."

Mac's eyebrows shot up at hearing that. "How many did you taste?"

"All of them," AJ replied, frowning at what he clearly thought was a silly question.

"Well," Harriet said, trying to hide her laughter, "I'll leave you to it." She made a quick exit, shutting the door behind her.

"You tasted all the cookies?" Mac asked AJ, hoping he hadn't licked the cookies to taste them.

"Uh huh." He nodded. "When's Uncle Harm coming?"

"Soon. How did you taste the cookies?"

"I took a bite - a small bite," He answered absently, his attention having already shifted. "Do you think Uncle Harm will like my new swimming trunks?" He sounded worried. "I got them just yesterday. Daddy says Uncle Harm likes planes a lot."

Mac crouched down to AJ's level. The boy apparently needed some reassurance. "Uncle Harm will love your new swimming trunks, AJ." She ruffled his hair. "He's really excited to see you. He told me so himself."

AJ looked down at his feet. "Do you think Uncle Harm will-"

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"That must be Uncle Harm," Mac exclaimed, smiling to put AJ at ease. "We'll have a ton of fun today, I promise." She gave him a tight hug and a kiss. She hadn't thought that he would be shy or nervous to meet Harm, not given that the boy had been very excited when she'd called to ask him if his godfather could join them this Saturday.

She stood and opened the door to reveal Harm, and AJ took the opportunity to hide behind her legs.

"Hi," She grinned.

"Hey," He grinned back. He leaned in and kissed her. Mac was too surprised - she was admittedly still getting used to the fact that they could say hello in this very appealing way - to do anything but welcome him. As had been the case since he'd kissed her in her office, what was supposed to be a short kiss became a rather longer and involved one. Not that she was complaining - until she felt the slight tug on her dress.

AJ.

"Harm," She mumbled through the kiss. "AJ's here."

He quickly pulled back. "Where?" He whispered, peering over Mac's shoulder towards the kitchen.

"Here," She whispered back, indicating the boy who was hiding behind her.

Much to her delight, Harm's ears turned red. She laughed, "AJ, honey," She placed her hand on top of his head, "Say hi to Uncle Harm."

The boy didn't move.

"Hey buddy," Harm crouched down to look at him. "Look at how tall and strong you've grown."

AJ kept himself shielded behind Mac's legs, peeking curiously and with a bit of trepidation at his godfather.

Harm persevered, grinning at the boy. "Wow. I love your swimming trunks! Are those airplanes?"

AJ nodded, inching out slightly from his hiding place.

"You think they have them in my size?" Harm asked. "I would love a pair with planes on them."

AJ giggled. "No!" He came out into the open, but still kept a hand on Mac. "You're too big!"

"Aw," Harm chuckled. "I guess you're right." He considered AJ for a moment. "You know, Aunt Mac says you're an expert at building sand castles."

"I make the best towers ever!" He nodded vigorously. "Aunt Mac said so."

"Did she?" Harm glanced up at Mac to give her a wink. "Wow. Then you must be good. You think you could teach me?"

"Yeah!" He replied full of excitement. "Aunt Mac makes really good moats and walls. She can teach you also!"

"That would be great." He indicated the beach bag he'd brought with him. "I have all these shovels and buckets and even some toy soldiers and flags in here, but I don't quite know what to do with them."

AJ's eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Take a look," Harm replied, opening the bag for AJ to see.

"Wow," He whispered, awed. "Can I share?"

Harm laughed. "Of course!" He stood up, "As soon as Aunt Mac's ready to go."

Mac had to snap herself out of the daze she'd fallen into at the sight of watching Harm make friends with AJ. She had definitely been hitting the snooze button on her biological clock for way too long, that a scene with Harm interacting so endearingly with a child made her not only love him all the more, but made her want him so much more.

"I'm ready," She declared. And then realized she wasn't quite yet - the picnic wasn't fully packed and she was sure AJ hadn't put on sunblock. "I mean, we can go as soon as I finish packing the picnic and you, young man," She said looking at AJ, "Have put on sunblock."

"Aw, Aunt Mac," He complained. "That stuff smells funny."

"How about I put it on for you, buddy?" Harm asked, "While Aunt Mac finishes packing lunch. Then we can walk to the beach."

"Did you put sunblock on?" AJ asked with a frown, looking in that moment like a carbon copy of Harriet.

"No," Harm admitted, hiding his smile. "I forgot, too."

"Alright," Mac said ushering them towards the stairs, "Up with the two of you. The sunblock is in my room, on the dresser. I'll get the food in order."

They obediently followed. Mac watched them go feeling a bittersweet sense of hope as she remembered the deal they'd made on the day of AJ's birth. It seemed like such a lifetime ago.

--

_A few minutes later..._

"There," Harm declared as he finished putting sunblock on AJ's back, "You are all set." He was sitting on Mac's bed, in her bedroom - the first time he'd set foot in this particular room - with AJ standing in front of him.

"You forgot behind my ears," The boy informed him.

Harm dutifully applied the lotion behind AJ's ears. He'd decided about the time he'd seen AJ peering at him from behind Mac's legs that he'd been blessed with the most adorable, incredible godson ever. Seeing the plane-patterned swimming trunks only reinforced his initial conclusion. Any worry he'd had about whether he and AJ would get along after missing over a year in the boy's life dispelled at seeing those shorts.

"I really like your swimming trunks, AJ."

"Thank you," AJ replied, playing with the string on his trunks. "Maybe you can ask the store if they bigger ones for grown-ups."

"That's a fantastic idea."

AJ grinned at Harm over his shoulder. "Aunt Mac also says I have good ideas. One time, when I had a sleepover with Aunt Mac it was my idea to have waffles for breakfast."

"That is a fabulous idea."

"Uh huh, and maybe next time we have a sleepover, Aunt Mac will let you come. If your mommy and daddy say yes."

Harm laughed. "That sounds like lots of fun."

"Daddy says you have planes."

"I do-"

"Do you have lots of planes?" AJ turned around to look at Harm, who took advantage of the opportunity to rub the lotion on AJ's chest and tummy.

"How many?" AJ asked, standing up on his toes. "This many?" He stretched his arms out as wide as he could.

"Just about that many," Harm grinned, smiling with affection at the young boy. "If your mommy and daddy say yes, maybe I could take you flying on a plane."

"Really?!" AJ jumped up and down, his hands on Harm's knees. "Yay! How about tomorrow!"

"How about you ask your mom and dad, and we can go next weekend. But only if they say yes." Harm suggested.

"Okay!" AJ agreed readily. "Also, I have school in weekdays so we have to wait until weekends. I love weekends. Wait until I tell Alex I'm going to fly on a plane. He's my best friend," AJ explained. "His dad takes him fishing all the time, on his own boat."

"Well," Harm said, ready to abet AJ in his game of one-upmanship with this best friend. "My dad has a boat. Maybe if we ask nicely he'd let us borrow it."

AJ's jaw dropped, and his eyes lit up with admiration. Harm would admit to feeling about ten feet tall right now.

There," Harm said, capping the bottle of lotion. "Now you're all ready to build sand castles, sport."

"Who's going to put sunblock on you?" AJ asked.

What a great question, Harm thought. He hadn't thought about it that way. He brightened at the answer he came up with: "I'll ask Aunt Mac."

"She's very good at it," AJ agreed wisely. "She never forgets to put it behind my ears or here," He pointed to the back of his neck.

Harm uncapped the bottle of lotion and dutifully applied some on the back of AJ's neck.

"All done!" AJ exclaimed as Harm once again recapped the bottle. "Last one downstairs is a rotten egg!" He sprinted away, his hand knocking the bottle of lotion out of Harm's grasp.

"Hey!" Harm exclaimed after the disappearing boy, "No fair, you cheated!"

AJ's giggles indicated that the boy knew very well that he wasn't playing fair. Harm grinned, shaking his head. He looked down at the floor for the bottle of lotion, but couldn't see it. It must have fallen under the bed. He crouched down on all fours to take a look there, and found it lying in front of a cardboard box used for sending mail.

He recognized the box, as well as the name above the return address written in one corner. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he should just stop, pick up the bottle of sunblock and walk away ... but he couldn't help himself. Harm pulled out the box from under Mac's bed and opened the lid.

There, inside, on top of the packing paper was a wooden music box. _iThe/i_ wooden music box. He could admit that it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. He lifted the music box out of its packing and ran his fingers along the carving. A soft music sounded when he opened the box. She hadn't taken it out of its packing. Had stuffed it under her bed in what seemed a hasty effort. He studied the box for a moment longer, knowing why she had hidden the box away out of sight. He shut the lid, glancing out the bedroom door in guilt, thinking of Mac and all that had happened this past year.

Harm stood up with the music box in hand and placed it on Mac's dresser. He shoved the now empty packing back under her bed and retrieved the sunblock before heading back downstairs.

It was the right thing to do, he told himself. He trusted Mac and he wanted to understand what she'd been through, and he needed to make sure she knew it.

--

_Some time later, on the beach..._

"Uncle Harm!" AJ exclaimed. "You're doing it wrong!"

Harm dragged his eyes away from his previous object of study - Mac in a bikini - and looked at his godson. "Huh?" He asked.

AJ sighed deeply. "You have to do it like this!" He patted the gob of wet sand in his hands into a flat cake. "Yours isn't wet enough! The tower will fall."

"Oh," Harm said, forcing himself to concentrate on building the castle. He picked up a fresh handful of wet sand from the bucket and closely mimicked AJ's actions.

"That's better, right Aunt Mac?" AJ looked at his godmother.

"That's right, AJ." Mac replied before shooting Harm a curious frown. "It's not that hard, Harm," She whispered once AJ's attention drifted back to his own tower. "Are you bored?"

"No, I am not!" He protested immediately. "I really am loving this. I was just..." He didn't quite know what to say. "...Thinking of how much AJ has grown since I last saw him."

"He's something, isn't he?" She gave AJ a fond look. "I love spending time with him like this." Mac gave Harm a warm smile, squinting against the sunlight as she spoke with him.

And he was again distracted by just how gorgeous she looked. Her skin was bronze and glowing in the afternoon sun. She'd been wearing a dress when they arrived at the beach. But when they sat down to build the castle, she'd taken off the dress to reveal a black bikini with gold dots set out in a pattern. And, heaven help him, she looked incredible in it. All that smooth, soft, silky skin ... He'd known from their morning runs - and the all-too-brief feel of her bare stomach against his fingers earlier in the week - that she was still in really good shape. But he hadn't realized just how good-looking that shape was. It was probably a good thing AJ was here. It was also a good thing AJ had supervised Mac's application of the sunblock, making sure she didn't forget to put some behind his ears. It helped him maintain some level of cool back in her kitchen when all he really wanted to do was push her against the fridge and get down to business, and here where all he really wanted to do was throw her into the water and see her emerge all wet-

"Uncle Harm!" AJ's voice again wrenched him from the beginnings of an incredibly wonderful daydream. "You have to put it like this after it's all flat." He put the sand on top of the steadily building mound in front of him and then patted it down. "See?"

"Oh," Harm looked at the sand in his hands. "Right." He wondered how Mac would take it if he asked her to put her dress back on. And it was ridiculously evident that it had been a while for him, that a woman in a bikini - Mac in a bikini - had him so out of sorts. The last woman he'd been with was Catherine Gale. And his anger over Mac's rejection was not the strongest basis on which to build a relationship. Not that he'd wanted one ... Really, he hadn't exactly known what the hell he'd wanted back then, when nothing was working in his favour.

He stacked the sand-cake that was in his hands onto the pile in front of him. "Sorry, AJ. I was just getting hungry." He berated himself for how that must have sounded. "I mean," He added quickly, "For dinner."

"Already?" Mac asked. "We just ate lunch an hour ago."

"Not my fault," He defended. "Someone ate half my cookie before it even got to me."

"I had to taste them to make sure they were the good cookies, Uncle Harm," AJ replied in a serious tone of voice. "One time, Aunt Mac put cookies with raisins in it." He made a grimace and shook his head.

"It was by accident!" Mac exclaimed. "Besides, oatmeal is good for you."

"It was yucky."

"Oatmeal makes you grown big and strong, AJ." Mac insisted. "Just ask Uncle Harm. He eats lots of oatmeal. That's why he's so tall."

AJ looked at Harm for confirmation.

"It's true, buddy. I have oatmeal for breakfast every morning."

"I have cereal," AJ replied. "And I'm strong. See?" He flexed his bicep for Harm.

"Wow. You are strong." Harm looked at Mac, who was concentrating on putting up the eastern wall of their castle and shaking her head in amusement at AJ's male posturing. "Aunt Mac has bacon for breakfast, AJ, that's why she's not strong like us guys."

AJ's eyes widened in surprise at hearing Harm's words. And then he broke into a fit of giggles. "Yeah! Girls are not strong like us!"

Mac raised an eyebrow at Harm in clear warning. He knew he should fear for his life and limbs, but he couldn't help teasing her. She looked so good sitting there and he couldn't touch her, so this was the next best thing.

"You hear that, Mac?" He taunted with a grin. "You're not strong like us."

"And girls can't run fast like boys can!" AJ squealed with delight. "I'm super fast at running. Are you, Uncle Harm?"

"You bet I am, AJ," He exchanged a high-five with his godson.

Mac suddenly stood up, towering over Harm and giving him a very appealing view of her. "Alright, Flyboy. I'll race you." She declared with a wide grin. "Last one to the water is a rotten egg."

With that, she sprinted towards the ocean.

"Go Uncle Harm!" AJ urged with worry, "Or you'll be the rotten egg!"

Harm jumped up and chased after Mac. He had his feet ankle-deep in the water when she dove into the oncoming spray. He ran after her, the water cool around his knees, offering a pleasant contrast to the hot midday sun.

He was about to dive in pursuit of her when Mac re-emerged, standing up in the shallow waters that only reached her thighs. He stood rooted in place, watching the droplets of water shimmer against her golden skin and drip down in rivulets. She smoothed her wet hair away from her face. It was pretty much the day dream he'd had a few minutes ago. Except she hadn't been wearing that smug look of vindication when he'd pictured her.

"Beat you!" She declared laughing in delight, walking up to him. She poked him in the chest. "You are a rotten egg."

He captured her outstretched finger in his grasp, knowing he should say something witty but unable for the life him to get his brain to work, let alone his mouth. Her expression slowly changed from smug delight to surprise to exactly what it had been when they'd made out on her couch last Tuesday.

"Harm," She whispered. The way she said his name made his breath quicken.

"Uncle Harm!" AJ cried out from the shore, just a few feet from them. "Maybe you just forgot to eat breakfast this morning!"

Harm and Mac both burst into laughter.

"Maybe I did," Harm turned to where AJ was standing.

Mac elbowed him. "Hey!" She protested. "Tell him I'm faster than you."

"But you aren't," He raised one arrogant eyebrow.

"Harmon Rabb," She warned.

"Sarah MacKenzie," He teased.

Challenge sparked in her eyes, and Harm found himself quite turned on.

"Hey, AJ!" Mac called to their godson. "I'm stronger than Uncle Harm. Want to see?"

The boy pondered this for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

"Right, Mac," Harm goaded her further. "I'd like to see-" The rest of his sentence was cut-off as Harm's feet gave way from under him and he fell on his back into the water. He sputtered, trying to catch his bearings. It took him a moment before he stood up, wiping the water from his eyes.

"Mac!" He exclaimed, "You tripped me! You hooked my ankle!"

"I want bacon for breakfast, too!" AJ declared from his dry spot on the shore.

That did it. He wouldn't let his godson believe that greasy pig was a good thing to eat. Harm grabbed Mac around the waist, picked her up - taking a moment to enjoy her shriek of protest and how she felt against him - and then dunked her into the Pacific Ocean. He turned around, standing with his hand on his hips, and looked at AJ. "Trust me, AJ, you want oatmeal for breakfast."

Before he could gloat any further, a pair of hands snaked around his hips, and he felt himself being flipped over headfirst into the water. He again sputtered his way to the surface. When he re-emerged above water, Mac was safely on shore, standing next to AJ.

"Truce?" She called.

"No!" He declared, wading towards them both.

"How about a ceasefire?" She returned. "I have more cookies."

He took a moment to consider her offer, during which he again admired just how good she looked, her long legs and the curve of her hips, her slim waist and-

"Harm?" She called again, snapping him from his thoughts. "What do you say?"

"Alright," He agreed. He quickly dunked his head into the cool water to clear his thoughts, then walked towards the shore. "But I get two cookies."

"Deal." She replied, offering him her hand as he neared her. He gladly took it, holding it as they headed back to the picnic basket.

"Uncle Harm?" AJ took his other hand.

"Yeah, AJ?"

"I think you should have bacon for breakfast too."

--  
_That evening..._

Harm took a deep breath before opening Mac's front door to Harriet, Bud and their remaining children.

"Harriet, Bud," He grinned, especially at seeing Harriet looking as sunny as ever. "It's great to see you. You look beautiful," He said, indicating her very large, pregnant belly.

"Oh, Sir!" Harriet exclaimed, pulling him in for a tight hug. "It is so wonderful to see you! And thank you." She grinned up at him.

"Harriet: call me Harm." He tried to be stern but he was grinning too widely to pull it off.

"I promise to try, Harm." She gracefully amended. Harm laughed, looking over at Bud, who was holding a small boy in his arms.

"Hey, Bud," He shook hands with the younger man. "Is this Jimmy?" He asked.

The boy hid his face in his father's shoulder.

"Say hello to Uncle Harm, Jimmy," Bud requested to no avail. Jimmy just buried himself further into his dad's side.

"He just woke up from a nap," Harriet offered.

"Don't worry about," Harm replied, "AJ was also shy at first. I'll have this little guy warmed up in no time."

At that very moment, AJ stampeded into the room. Harm had learned just how much noise one little boy could make today, but it still surprised him. AJ was tiny as a lemur but made all the noise of a herd of hippos.

"Mommy! Daddy!" He screeched, flinging himself into his mother's legs. Harm helpfully put a hand out to steady the waddling Harriet. AJ was oblivious, giving his parents an account of his day "We built sandcastles and Aunt Mac is stronger than Uncle Harm - it's true I saw it myself Aunt Mac went like this," AJ bent over forward to illustrate Mac's backflip, "And Uncle Harm went all the way up up because Aunt Mac has bacon for breakfast and we ate chocolate cookies I tasted them to make sure they were the right cookies because oameal is yucky and it doesn't make you strong like bacon or cereal and Uncle Harm says next weekend he can take me flying in his plane if you say yes. Please, say yes! Say yes, mommy, daddy, please, please, please!"

"AJ!" Harriet exclaimed to her accosting son. "Simmer down!"

"Of course Uncle Harm can take you up in his plane, son." Bud replied, grinning at Harm, "He and I used to go up a lot, it's really fun."

"Wow, you went up in Uncle Harm's plane?" AJ turned to Mac who followed AJ into the room. She'd changed into jeans and a light sweater that sat loosely around her shoulders. "Did you go, too?"

Mac nodded, smiling. "I did. Uncle Harm is actually now teaching me how to fly a plane all by myself." She winked at Harm, who was irrationally pleased by the gesture and the smile on her face.

"Wow." AJ turned to Harm. "Can you teach me? Like I teached you to make sand castles?"

Harm laughed, shrugging at Bud and Harriet. "How about when you turn eighteen?"

"Twenty-one," Harriet interjected worriedly. Harm bit back a laugh.

"Twenty-one," He amended with a serious expression directed at his godson.

"But that's in ten million years!" AJ protested.

"Why don't you go wash your hands for dinner, and we can talk about it later," Harriet offered. The sternness in her voice left no room for dispute.

"Yes, Mommy." AJ trudged off, and the adults waited until he had disappeared before breaking into joint laughter at his behaviour.

"You have a wonderful son, Bud, Harriet." Harm smiled at the proud parents, who beamed back.

"Thanks, Harm," She replied, "I hope he wasn't a handful."

"He was absolutely delightful," Mac replied. She walked over to Bud, tickling Jimmy under his chin. The little boy smiled at her and put his arms out. Mac gladly complied to his request and picked Jimmy out of his father's arms. Jimmy settled himself comfortably, burying his face in Mac's neck. "Did you just wake up, little man?" Mac cooed. Jimmy replied by cuddling further into Mac's embrace.

"Would you have room for this in your freezer?" Bud asked, indicating the grocery bag in his hands. "We brought ice cream and the fixings for sundaes."

"Ooh," Mac grinned, "Perfect. And of course I do." She led him towards the kitchen.

Harm watched them go, wondering at how close he would be with AJ and Jimmy right now if he hadn't spent the last year as he had. He sighed. New regrets just kept cropping up, even if he told himself this last year was important for him, for forcing him to grow up in some ways and loosen up in others. He just needed Mac to understand that, to believe it. He glanced at Harriet, who was watching him with a thoughtful expression, and thought that he needed to explain himself in part to Harriet, too. He'd always had a soft spot for her, an affection that he was realizing he'd also taken for granted.

"Harriet," He began, "About this past year, I should have kept in touch. As AJ's godfather and as your friend." He ran a hand through his hair, shrugged his shoulders. Apologies were never his strong suit.

She put a hand on his arm to settle him. "I understand, Harm. When we lose something important in our lives, our first instinct is always to hide."

He grinned ruefully, "That's hardly justification for following through on our instincts."

"It's not," Harriet agreed, "But we still do it. It's how we deal with grief."

Harm nodded, not entirely pleased with the thought.

"You know," She continued, "I'm very lucky that I have Bud. We often had reason to pull away from each other when things got bad, but we found each other in the end."

Harm wondered where she was going with this. Harriet didn't keep him in suspense for long.

"I was also lucky to have friends like you and Mac. You were a wonderful support, when baby Sarah passed, when Bud lost his leg." She looked down at her feet, seeming to summon her courage. "I could have been a better friend to you after you lost your commission in the Navy."

"Harriet, no," Harm protested immediately, putting his hand over hers. "I didn't make it easy for anyone."

She eyed him with a warm sparkle in her eye, "How about I promise to be a better friend to you in future, and you promise to keep in touch with AJ and Jimmy no matter what."

Harm put his hand out. "Only if you agree to let me do the same with you and the twins, as with the boys."

"It's a deal," Harriet grinned.

And they shook on it.

--  
_  
Later that night..._

Harm watched Mac as she dried and shelved the last dinner plate.

"Thanks for staying to help me clean up, Harm."

"No problem, Mac." And it really wasn't, once she'd put her clothes back on before supper with the Roberts.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" She asked.

God, how he wanted to stay. But he knew that he wanted more than just coffee, so it was best that he leave. "We have an early morning tomorrow," He said, taking her hand in his and leading her to the front door. "I should probably head out." He turned to look at her, "You are coming over for brunch, right?"

Mac nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Good." He made no move to leave even though her door was right behind him. "Mom and Frank will be glad to see you."

"I'm looking forward to seeing them, too." Her hand found its way to his chest, where she idly played with the button on his shirt. "You still owe me a steak dinner."

"I made reservations for next Friday." He slipped his arm around her waist, and tried not to get too distracted by what he wanted to do with her standing so close. "That place is booked solid for the next two months. Thankfully Frank is one a first-name basis with the Maitre d'."

"Hmm," She whispered, her eyes falling shut as he slid his fingers through her hair.

"Sarah," He murmured, resisting the urge to kiss her because it wouldn't stop with a kiss. "You were right, about taking our time with this. As much as I want to stay, I should go."

She nodded, her forehead coming to rest on his chin. "I know."

He sighed. He knew she needed time, that she'd been terribly hurt by the way he'd handled the situation in Paraguay and after, up until they'd met in the gallery. He also knew that when Mac felt, she did so with all her heart, making this all that much more difficult for her, for him. What they really needed was to talk about Paraguay, and what preceded it. They had to figure that out before they got distracted. Got any more distracted.

He placed a quick peck on her lips, not daring himself to do any more, squeezed her shoulders, and then walked out her front door. Once outside, Harm took three deep breaths. He was going to have to find the courage to really talk to her soon. Tomorrow, he promised himself. He would grab the bull by the horns and they would talk this out tomorrow. Then they could leave the past in the past, and look forward to the life that was waiting for them.

--

Mac watched the front door shut behind him. Slowly, she locked the door and then headed to her room, her skin still tingling from his touch. He'd looked really good today, at the beach. Handsome and muscular and shirtless ... And he'd been so sweet with AJ. It was getting harder and harder for her to resist him, even though the rational side of her knew that they needed to sort through some things before they hit the sheets. It was just that there was something about him that nagged at her. Actually, it was something about her: she still couldn't understand this life he was living here, the changes that had happened in him over this last year when she wasn't a part of his life. She needed to understand that, because as long as she didn't understand it, she wasn't convinced that his current behaviour was not just some reaction he was having to this last year and his dissatisfaction with it, that once she gave in completely, he'd revert to the Harm she knew. The one who was gun shy and evasive. How would she handle it if he lost interest in her then?

She switched on the lights in her room and then unfastened the necklace she was wearing. As she set the necklace on her dresser, Mac caught sight of the music box Ethan had made for her sitting right there. She frowned. She'd left that in its box, under bed ... Mac moved over to her bed and pulled out the cardboard box that had previously housed the music box. She rifled through it and found that it was empty.

And then she remembered that Harm had been in here this morning, with little AJ. She glanced at the box, her frown deepening.

Harm had placed the box on her dresser?

Her heart swelled so suddenly at the thought that Mac had to sit down. Harm had done this. She buried her face in her hands, laughing with a joy she hadn't felt in over a year. Harm had done this. Perhaps her fears and her worries were unfounded. After all, he'd come to JLS just to take her to lunch, he'd taken her to meet his parents ... and now he was trying to show her his faith in her. Even if he wasn't talking about everything they'd been through before she'd left, even if he was still tight-lipped about ignoring her calls for five months and being so unbearable in Paraguay ... She'd always known, through everything, but this just confirmed it: Harm was a good man.

If Harm had been here when she'd found the music box on her dresser, she doubted she would have been able to let him go home tonight.

Mac wondered if that was a good thing.

-- 


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

A/N: Last chapter! Thank you for reading and reviewing. Until next time... (Although, KristieM, if I had the time right now I'd write an epilogue just for you, to validate your psychic abilities).

--

**Fresh Start 13**

_The next morning  
_

"Hey, Harm," Mac greeted with him a grin as she opened her door to him. He was actually on time this morning. It wasn't that she found punctuality per say to be an attractive trait, but this was Harm and after discovering the music box last night, he could have shown up wearing a poncho with hot pink leggings and she still would have found him more appealing than usual. Not wanting to pay heed to the voice in her head warning that they still had much to sort through, and most definitely wanting to act on just how hot he looked this morning, Mac stepped into Harm. She wound her arms around his waist and stood up on her toes, tilting her face to his to deliver a thank you kiss. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and opening his mouth to hers. It took less than a second, by Mac's flawless count, for a thank you kiss to become a very heated session that was not suited for her front porch. She stopped keeping count after that.

"Mac," He murmured, pushing her against the wall beside her door. His hand slipped under her shirt. "Wait."

"Hm," She nodded against his lips, pulling his shirt out of his pants. "Inside," She agreed.

"I mean," He tore himself away from her, his breath uneven, and rested his forehead against hers. "Wait." His large, warm hand was still under her shirt, stroking her back. "We have to go for breakfast."

Mac deflated against him. Damn it. She'd forgotten about that. "Okay," She took a deep breath, rallying herself. Harm stepped back so that he was not touching her, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers. He gave her a tender smile and brushed her hair from her face.

"We keep doing that," His smile turned into a grin.

"Maybe we should continue doing it," She leaned against the wall, keeping her hands behind her to resist the urge to touch him.

He looked up from re-tucking his shift. His eyes darkened, she watched his chest rise and fall in quickened cadence. Mac clasped her hands tighter behind her back and looked away. Clearly they'd never make it to his parents' if she flirted with him.

"You said that," His voice was strangled. He cleared his throat, and Mac could see his restraint in his tightly controlled movements. "You said we should wait."

"You left the music box on my dresser," She explained.

He swallowed heavily. "I did." His eyes hadn't left hers, and she watched realization dawn over her meaning.

"Mac," He whispered. He took a step towards her, and then stopped himself. He looked out towards her street, taking three deep breaths. She watched him as he studied the tree-lined road, lost deep in thought, wondering what he was thinking. When he turned back to look at her, she knew he'd reached a resolution of some kind. What it was, she didn't know.

He offered her his hand. "Shall we? Breakfast awaits." He demeanour was back to normal and he was wearing a large smile. But the steely resolve in his eyes held fast, and so did the heat.

The sudden determination in his bearing was confusing, but she went along with it. As with everything else they needed to sift through, she would just have to wait until Harm was either ready to talk or willing to let her push him into talking.

_--  
_

_Hours later, some thousands of feet in the air_

Harm leaned back in his seat, staring ahead at the broad expanse of sky ahead of them.

"It's beautiful up here," Mac commented from the pilot's seat, her attention divided between the gorgeous view and flying the plane.

"It is," Harm agreed distractedly. He was trying - had been since this morning on her front porch when he'd promised himself they would talk before they did ... other things - to find a way to broach the topic of all they needed to talk about. He wanted to get it out of the way so they could move forward. Mac seemed ready, but he needed to know something first. It had nagged at him since long before she'd left for California.

The tricky issue was that he didn't know how to bring up the topic, or keep their discussion from devolving into a fight. Up here, he thought, was the best place. No escape for either of them. Or perhaps that made it the worst place.

"Mac."

"Yeah," She glanced at him with a smile, one that quickly faded at his expression. "What is it, Harm?"

"You remember last year, when you came by my apartment in the pregnancy suit?"

She nodded, her grip tightening on the control wheel. He reminded himself that this conversation was important for securing the rest of his life, as he wanted it. So he persevered despite his worries.

"Why did you accepted the mission," He looked away from her for a moment, because the distance between the rest of his life and the present suddenly seemed immense. "I don't get why you had to go so far away when I'd just ... When I wanted you to stay."

"Where is this coming from?" She asked, startled.

"C'mon, Mac. It's the elephant in the room. The longer we put it off," He remembered his mother's advice, "The harder it's going to get to deal with it."

She took a deep breath. It was a long time before she answered. "After all that had happened, I needed to get away from there."

"You mean away from me." It was exactly as he'd feared, and all those horrible feelings he'd felt while isolated in the brig returned.

She shrugged, and it didn't seem like she was going to answer.

"You didn't come to see me when I was in the brig. And the moment I got out, you left." They both knew admiral's orders were not her excuse.

"I just ... I was upset."

"With me?"

She nodded rather reluctantly, looking ashamed. "With you."

"I felt really isolated, Mac." He felt his own anger, his hurt at her abandonment start to rise. "I needed you."

"No," She shook her head, no longer shamefaced but resolute instead. "You didn't need me, Harm. If you'd needed me, you would've come to me when you first found out about Singer."

He didn't know how to respond to that. It was different, he wanted to say. It wasn't the same thing.

"It was just another nail in the coffin for me. You can't decide when you want a person in your life and when you don't. That's not how this is supposed to work. When things go well in your life, you're..." She trailed off, hesitated before forging ahead, "Nice to me. When things are hard for you, you shut everyone out. Me included. I just couldn't stand it anymore. Things had been going well, and I thought ... Well, regardless of what I thought, you still didn't talk to me when I could have helped you. Even if only by listening. And suddenly I was tired of it. I was tired of being so expendable in people's lives. Of being discarded. It seemed like every relationship I was in, anyone I was close to, it was always the other person setting the terms of engagement. My father did it with me. Never contacted me but still followed my career. My mother did it with me, is still doing it. Mic did it. Hell, even Uncle Matt did it. And then I realized it was the same with you. It was a terrible thing to realize and I just needed space."

"I'm sorry." He said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"Don't apologize. I learned this last year that I have to shoulder some of the blame too. I never tried to take control, not in any way that mattered. I never tried to reach my dad, I'm too afraid to track down my mother. I let Mic pull me along. I've never told Uncle Matt just how devastating his incarceration has been for me. And I sure as hell never told you what I wanted, never pushed for it after Mic left. I was just too afraid of rejection, of getting left behind again. Too afraid to have it confirmed that I really was expendable, unimportant in anyone's life."

"Mac," He stared, dumbfounded, his heart breaking. How little had he known this woman?

"Stop, Harm." She was stern and tough and exactly how he'd learned she acted when confronted by weakness. "I'm not looking for anything from you. I'm just answering your question."

He didn't know what to say. He thought he might just fall apart if he spoke. So he kept his silence.

"Why didn't you come to me about Singer?" She asked this in such a tiny voice, he felt like an ogre crushing the flowers in his path. And in her question he saw the woman behind the shield.

"I ... I don't know. I'm used to dealing with things on my own." Hardly an answer worth giving, but all he had. "I'm trying to change that." He looked down at his hands, "I'm starting to see what made you feel the way you did. Why you left."

She didn't say anything. He thought it best to continue the flying lesson. Something to anchor him.

"Was it so bad," He asked moments later, as he adjusted dials that didn't need adjusting, and read instruments that didn't need reading. "That you had to accept a covert op with the CIA?"

"The admiral would hardly grant me leave at such a time." Her voice was tight, just shy of defensive. "I needed to get away."

"But you still came to say goodbye." He didn't intend for it to sound so bitter.

She gave him an accusing look, full of hurt. "I'm not heartless. I have always cared for you, no matter how bad things were between us."

"And you still left." It sounded far more spiteful than he thought himself capable of. He felt the sand slip between his fingers as he waited for Mac's reaction.

"You're still angry about it." She apparently had a gift for stating the obvious. "You retaliate when you're angry. That's exactly what you did in Paraguay. You were angry and short-tempered with me there, too. And you're doing it again."

He bit back his irritation with her response. "Fine." He said, trying to school his tone to civility, but failing. "Let's start again. I didn't mean to get upset."

"You can't say that, Harm," She replied, "When it's clear you are upset."

"Can you blame me?" He countered, knowing even as he said it that he was screwing this up.

"Don't throw this back at me." She said firmly.

He didn't say anything.

"Was it because I left for Paraguay without your permission?" She pushed. "Or because I didn't contact you in the brig?"

He said nothing, knowing that if he did they'd only fight. All this anger was bubbling up inside him and he needed to cap it. He'd thought he'd dealt with it, but clearly he had not.

"Tell me why you're still angry." It was a challenge more than a request.

"I'm not." He busied himself with the flight instruments in an effort to distract. He was starting to realize where his anger came from, and "We should go over some manoeuvres. You'll need them to get your license."

"Harm." She definitely recognized when he was trying to change the subject. "Let me worry about flying the plane. I feel as though I'm the one doing all the soul baring."

He shook his head. "No. I ... give me a moment." He needed to recoup and wished he weren't in such close quarters with her. Her presence was filling the cabin and he didn't know how to tell her that part of his treatment of her in Paraguay stemmed from his anger towards her for not being supportive over the Singer affair and his time in the brig.

She nodded, her attention turning back to the plane. He wished he was the one flying right now, at the controls. It would give him some equilibrium, something to concentrate on besides his own anxieties about this topic of conversation. But instead of doing that, he had to settle for watching Mac as she flew. He had been right about one thing: she was a natural. It filled his heart to the brim, watching her in the pilot's seat. She seemed so at home, like she belonged.

And in that moment he knew exactly what to say.

"You look really good in that seat." He told her.

"You are a fantastic instructor." She glanced at him, her response was sincere and wary all at once.

"You know, what you told mom is true. I wanted to teach you to fly more for my benefit than yours." He saw her questioning look and elaborated, "To spend time with you. But the thing is I've learned more from this than I could ever hope to repay."

"What do you mean?" She frowned.

"My entire life, until this flight school, I've been the one doing the flying. Calling the shots, making sure everything went okay, no major mishaps. And you were right about that: I was always in control, always had to be"

She nodded, but she clearly didn't know where he was going with this.

"But then I started teaching other people to fly. And it didn't hit me until just now what that meant. I thought it was a job, maybe one I was settling for, but it is so much more."

She was still frowning, so he went ahead and shared his conclusion.

"Letting go isn't that bad," He explained. "Being in control, you said it yourself, is only something you need to do when you don't trust those around you. I forgot about that part. For all my great piloting skills, Chegwidden was right. I haven't been much of a team player. That's been my problem. It led me to mishandle the entire Singer affair, and completely screw up Paraguay."

Her confusion dissolved into realization. He watched her grip tighten on the controls. But she said nothing and only listened.

"When you left my apartment to go on the mission, I was upset. It hurt more than I thought it could. And that made me angry, which just added to my anger about you not visiting me in the brig. Then, while you were gone, the nightmares started."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Nightmares?" She glanced at him uncertainly.

He nodded. "Yeah. Terrible ones. All the ways everything could go wrong, all the ways I wouldn't be able to stop you from getting killed. It upset me even more. That's me not being a team player: I didn't trust in your skills, nor in Webb. Hell, I didn't trust the CIA."

"With reason," She interrupted. "The shit did hit the fan."

"I still should have had more faith in you than I did," He countered, not willing to be budged on this point. "Then you went missing and AJ wouldn't let me go after you. And that downright pissed me off. I didn't trust him enough to ask his reasons, to dig deeper. I didn't even think to ask him if he had a plan. I just had to find you because no one else would do it right. So I resigned. Again, not being a team player. And then I found you, and I had to get us out of there. Me, not us. All I could do was see you as a distraction, and all I could be was angry with you for leaving in the first place, for making me lose control over the one thing that mattered to me more than anything," He took a breath, shook his head at his own convoluted thoughts. "Us," He elaborated. "Our relationship. I wasn't a team player, because I was trying to save us but I was doing it alone. Then I saw how you were with Webb and I didn't trust you, nor did I trust him. I just got increasingly angry. But I couldn't talk about it, I refused to because I could handle it on my own, like I handled everything else." He stopped, looked out at the expanse of sky in front of them. "Not a team player. And then AJ wouldn't take me back, even though I chose to leave. It just reinforced the downward spiral where I was losing everything. And maybe it started with Singer, when I should have come to you instead of trying to handle it by myself and ending up in the brig." He concluded, "All these things I had no control over just made me more and more angry. So I did what would put me in control. I ignored you and I signed up with the CIA. Two things I'd lost control over - our relationship and work - where instead of trusting anyone else, I just trusted no one but myself." He shrugged, and turned to look at Mac. "Not a team player. Never a team player."

There was a heavy silence in the cabin. He waited while she processed.

"Chegwidden was right, and you were right. But I'm doing a lot better on that front," He continued, "I was angry with you, but mostly with myself. I guess losing everything makes you realize how useless it is to choke the important things in your life to death, just because you want to keep an iron grip on them." He leaned back in his chair, "And I think I'm getting there, even if I do still get upset about what happened. I've learned the hard way that I don't have to do everything myself. After all, currently you're the one flying this thing and yet I'm feeling pretty great."

He turned to look at her, and found her with her head bowed, eyes closed.

"Sarah?" He asked carefully, concerned about her reaction.

"I just," She paused, took a breath. She was overwhelmed. "I just need a moment."

He smiled. "I'm not going anywhere," He teased, "I didn't pack a parachute."

She laughed, giving him a sideways glance. "We were almost having a Hallmark moment there," She replied, making him laugh too.

He put a hand out, "Come here," He offered.

She switched on the auto-pilot and took his hand in hers. He tugged her towards him, pulling her onto his lap and enveloping her in a hug.

"I am so sorry, Sarah, for always wanting to be in control, for hurting you."

She returned his hug. "I should have talked to you instead of leaving like I did." She tightened her hold on him, lightly nuzzling his neck. "I shouldn't have given up."

"I shouldn't have given you reason to," He replied, loosening his hold on her so he could see her eyes.

"What is it?" She asked, searching his face.

He shook his head. "Just ... happy."

"You look so serious."

"Remember that night at Mom's gallery," He began, after a moment's consideration, "When I said we could have a fresh start, the slate wiped clean, nothing in the way?"

She nodded.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his thumb caress her jaw. She closed her eyes at this touch.

"Well," He continued, "It was a bit naive of me to offer you that. Nine years of history can't be wiped clean, and I wouldn't want it to be."

Her eyes slid open, dark and beautiful and so familiar his heart filled his chest.

"In those years," He continued, "I got to know you, fight with you ... fall in love with you." His smile was soft as he took her hand in his. "I hated this last year, and I regret so much about so many decisions I made where you had a stake. But I like having a history with you."

"I like that too," She agreed. Truth was, he loved that there was so much depth and breadth in their shared lives. That he could know what he thinking by looking at her face, that he knew what foods she liked, and what she did on rainy evenings when she wasn't in a mood to go out.

"I was worried things had changed," She said, "That you had changed to the point where I couldn't recognize you."

"Is that what held you back?" He asked, a shade of worry clouding his expression.

"Partly," She nodded. "I didn't understand you anymore, or at least not as well as I thought I used to. You were the same person, but yet you weren't. I just didn't know where the change came from, or what it was exactly, what it meant ... What if you hadn't really changed, and all this time I'd just never really known you."

"And?" He threaded his fingers through hers, steeling himself against her response. He knew he wasn't the same man he'd been a year ago; he just wasn't sure how she felt about that. "What's the verdict?"

"You let go," She replied, a smile softening her expression, "That was the difference. And it was only fair that I do the same, no matter how scary."

He tightened his grip on her hand, relief and elation spreading through his veins. He put his arms around her and held her close. It was all he wanted since they'd met again at the gallery.

"Harm?" She whispered in his ear. His attention immediately shifted from what she was telling him to how she felt against him, the way she felt on his lap, his hands stroking her back, hers resting on his chest.

"Hm?" He tried to focus on her voice, and not every part of her that was touching him.

"Let's go home," Her voice was deep and thick, her breath hot against his skin "We've waited long enough."

It was the final straw, an entire week of frustration and longing barrelled through his restraint. "Mac," He sought her lips for a fierce kiss. One hand was on her hip, the other cupped her chin as he explored her mouth.

She responded readily, curling her hands into fists and grabbing his shirt, pulling him even closer to her. "Mm, Harm,"

He pulled her body flush against his, enveloping her, surrounding her, telling himself they needed to stop. They were more than a mile up in the air, he told himself, they needed to get back on solid ground.

"We should land this thing," He mumbled, busy exploring her neck as he unbuttoned her shirt. Her hands raked through his hair. She straddled him, her knees on either side of his legs.

"Why?" She murmured in pleasure as he nipped her collarbone, his hand sliding up her waist.

He stopped, certain that either he'd misheard or that she had, and stared at her. "We have to find a bed," He clarified, trying to look her in the eye but unable to stop his glance from drifting down to her chest. "I can't wait anymore, Mac," His voice was hoarse with a desperation that was foreign to him.

"Would it be against the rules," She murmured, trailing a finger along his cheek, across his jaw, down his neck, "To save the bed," She leaned forward and touched her lips to his, "For next time?"

He was suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe. His large hands slipped from her waist to her back. He pulled her closer and poured his intent into a deep, searching kiss. He felt her fingers explore the curve of his neck, the line of his jaw. He could feel his heart beat in his throat. His own fingers entwined in her hair and he pulled back to look at her. Her eyes caught his and darkened. He could see it, how much she wanted him. It was an ache that echoed in his heart, beat for beat, one he felt stirring hot flickers of his desire for her. The very same desire for her, visceral and primal, that he'd tried to tame this last week. He wanted to see this look in her eyes and the feel this possession in her touch. The look he knew was mirrored in his eyes; the possession that was mirrored in his touch.

He kissed her once, "Are you sure?" And again. "Maybe we need a bed." His hands, of their own volition, found their way to the button on her jeans. "This is the first time, and we're in the air-"

She began unfastening his shirt, kissing his chest as she went. "We don't have to wait, Harm," She looked up at him through long, dark eyelashes, "I can't. I don't want to."

Oh, Christ. This was right out of the fantasies he'd had when she'd accepted taking flying lessons from him. "You don't have to wait," He managed a reply, just barely, as her hands slid down his abs and fastened onto his belt buckle. "Ever again."

They were the words he knew he should've given her a long time ago.

--  
_Some time later..._

They were both breathing heavily, with her still firmly in his lap. He nibbled on her neck and shoulder as she tried to calm her racing heart. That was, without a single doubt, the most amazing experience of her life. Perhaps it was to be expected, given the years filled with tension, the previous week filled with expectation, and their current circumstance of being in a flying plane thousands of feet in the air - this last, she thought was perhaps the most significant. That and how irresistible he was to her. She'd told him he'd changed because he let go, but the truth was also that he'd grown up. He was mature with his feelings, even if he still guarded those same feelings carefully. And he'd opened up to her, making her see a whole new part of him, making her want to open up to him in return. That was what had changed about him, and this change made him so attractive to her ... In short, it could have been nothing short of hard, fast and explosive. And so damn satisfying she didn't know how to bring herself down from the high.

"Geez. That was amazing." Harm echoed her thoughts. She looked up at his face, stopping briefly to admire his firm, sweat-covered chest.

"Must the lower air pressure up here," She voiced her own conclusion out loud.

"You really know how to bring a guy down," He chuckled, his eyes alight with happiness.

She laughed, "You were incredible." She gave him a smacking kiss. "I am ruined for life."

"Damn straight," He replied with a smile. However, the seriousness in his eyes belied the attempt at humour.

"What are you thinking?" She asked, her breathing finally leveling out. She traced his eyebrow with a finger, trying to erase the slight frown on his brow.

"I'm wondering if it's too soon to tell you that I want to marry you."

Her jaw dropped. "What?" She whispered, trying to gauge if he was serious. He was looking her straight in the eye with that honesty she was hard-pressed to resist.

"If it is," He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, his fingers playing with her hair. "I can wait. Maybe another week if you like."

"You're serious." It was difficult to process - she hadn't spared a thought for that far in the future.

"I am." He nodded. "We agreed that we didn't want a clean slate. Which means we have nine years together - I know you better than I know myself, and you can say the same about knowing me. We love each other, which I hear is a good prerequisite for marriage. And as you said, we both let go. I mean, right now neither of us is flying this plane."

Her eyes darted towards the control panel, and then out the window. They were indeed not careening in a nose dive towards a spectacular crash.

"Is it too soon, Sarah?" He whispered.

She couldn't find a single reason to answer in the affirmative. The hardest part was reconciling what he was saying to her now, with what she'd thought he felt for her a year ago. If this was not a gift to her, she didn't know what could be.

"It's not," She cupped his face with her hands, "You can ask me anytime you want," She rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes against the tears of joy. She laughed, because the alternative would be to cry. "Anytime you want, Harm."

--  
the end.


End file.
